Chasing The Quiet One

Part 11

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Josh's P.O.V

A whole month passed in a blink of an eye. That day at Jayna's place, was the last day she fully talked to me.

After that day we only worked on our project. Even then did we barely talk. She told me what her favorite quote from Romeo And Juliet meant. I loved hearing her talk about things she loved. She was so passionate about everything.

She agreed to be my friend, but she but distance between us. While I opened up to her, she pushed her secrets futher away.

All I knew was that her past must have been terrible. She doesn't want to talk about anything, not even her mom.

We were working on our quotes when I suggested that we take a break. She hesitantly agreed.

We were in her room. Sitting on her bed, with our books open. She got up from her spot and grabbed a stack of books sitting on her nightstand.

She walked over to one of her bookshelves and reached up on her tip toes to put them away.

"Here," I said standing up to help her.

I walk over to her and that's when I see it, her shirt was lifted up just a bit revealing a strip of skin on her hip.

A scar marked her tender skin. It looked like it was a few years old.

She catches me staring. Without thinking I place my hand on her hip over the scar. Sparks fly where our skin touchs.

"Where did that come from?!" I blurt.

She snaps away from our contact, and quickly pulls her shirt down.

"W-what are you talking about?" She questions.

"Jayna, you know what I'm fucking talking about." I exclaim, freely showing my worry towards her.

Anger flashes through her gray eyes, something I've never seen in Jayna.

"It was an accident when I was little." She lies through her teeth. "I-I cut it on our coffee table. It was glass."

"Jayna, you're a terrible liar . That scar is not from a coffee table." I can tell be case it's a clean, straight cut. Obviously done by a knife. "Did you... cut yourself?"

Her eyes change from anger to surprise. "What? No!"

"Jayna," I pause exhausted from trying to get her to open up to me. "I just care about you. That's what friends do. They worry about each other." When I say this something else flashes through Jayna's eyes.

"Get out." She whispers.

"What?" I say shocked.

"Get out," she says once again. Except this time a bit louder.

"Why?"

"I told you before Josh." She says my name with urgency. She rarely says my name. I love the way it sounds coming from her mouth. "I can't have friends. I was stupid to agree to it in the first place."

I look at her for a few seconds. I mean I really look at her. She looks tired and beaten down.

"Okay," I say in defeat. "I'll leave." I start to gather up my stuff.

"Josh, I-" she stops herself but then continues. "I'm sorry. I'm a terrible person. You're a nice person. That's why you deserve a friend that will treat you well. Like, Tervor. Don't waste your time trying to be my friend."

I grab her hand. She flinches but eases into my touch as always.

Momentarily she puts her gaze on our locked hands.

"I'm not giving up on you." I tell her, she looks up at me. Then, I grab my things and leave like she had asked.

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Jayna's P.O.V

When Josh leaves I immediately burst into tears. Let me tell you that I barely cry. I've been through enough to controll my emotions to where it's almost unhealthy.

But I can't help it this one time. I am mad, angry, and sad. What's so frustrating about it, is that I really don't know why I'm like this?

I feel like it's because I'm tired of living like this, that I'm tired of not letting anyone in. Holding my past in is wearing me out. Or maybe it's because I know I have obvious feeling for Josh, but I refuse to let myself believe it. I'm tired of everything. I'm tired of being tired.

I touch my scar, the only scar that's Mark's my body. I have many more, just not physically.

My dad gave it to me. I was thirteen, it was a year before I had killed him. He was drunk like he had been that night he hit my mom.

But instead of hitting me, he touched me in ways a father shouldn't touch his daughter.

I started to refuse his touch and push him away. This only made him angry. He brought out his pocket knife. I didn't think my own father would do something like this but he did.

He continued touching me, and he called me things nobody wants to be called. He cursed at me, and told me how very worthless I was.

He touched his knife to the skin on my hip. Instead of screaming, which I knew would just make matters worse. I bit down on my lip from the terrible pain that seemed like it would last an eternity. I told myself I couldn't cry. That I had to be strong for myself, for my mom.

The horrible pain seemed to numb a different pain I felt deep down inside of me. The pain that had a burning bright flame. It dimmed that flame. Meanwhile the deeper the cut got the more blood I lost. Soon my world turned black. I'm lucky my mom came home when she did.

I run my finger over the scar once more.

My mom comes into my room later on. She doesn't say anything she just takes me into her arms and we curl into each other on my bed. She holds me for a while.

Sometimes that's all you need, a good embrace.