Damsel In Distress

(5) Masking Wounds

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Recap of (4)

"Class? You don't need to be-"

"Look I got to go I'll call you later okay. Bye mom."

Shit.

I spring up off the mattress, tugging open the stuff drawers, flipping through the line of shirts. I throw on the first thing I can find.

I do one quick brush through of my long tasseled brunette hair before grabbing my books for philosophy and rushing at the door.

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Declan POV:

Song- Control Freak: Copeland

I flip through the pages of my textbook when I hear the door click open. My eyes follow her frame as she enters the room after one deep breath, taking the empty seat diagonally to my left. Her books are clutched tightly to her chest, tensely, as her brunette swings behind her shoulders.

The professor wears the same expression as he did when I entered the room, only her entrance brings the room to a dead silence. Every one of them aware of their relationship for he was in this class, their affection sublime but you would have to have blind ignorance not to notice it.

The way she looked at him like he held the world in his hands.

The way he looked back at her like she held that very world in which hers revolved around until they moved in orbit in a melodic harmony.

The professor clears his throat as hushed whispers fill the room, "if you are done the reading I would like you to do the discussion questions with the person sitting next to you."

Just as chatter begins to fill the room me again I twist my chair around, sliding it in the isle so it's just in front of Annabelle's desk.

"What are you doing here?" I yell in a whisper so only she can hear.

Her eyes drift up from the books she just finished placing on her desk, "what are you doing here?" She retorts back in a shouted whisper.

My eyes scan across hers, shrugging my shoulders, "it's a good distraction, even though it's only a temporary one."

"Oh," her lips purse together as she briefly looks away before hesitantly admitting, "me too, I mean I just need to think about anything else right now." Annabelle shakes her head solemnly.

I reach my hand over hers in the middle of her desk but she quickly retracts, "sorry I-"

"It's fine," she mumbles clasping her hands tightly in her lap.

Instead I fold my arms on the edge of her desk, "have you heard anything...about the funeral?"

Annabelle shakes her head, "no I haven't. Did you know he left a letter for his parents too. Apparently no one knew..." Her voice lingers off while her eyes drift across mine with suspicion.

"...that is no one except you, right?" She adds, her eyes burning through my soul.

I swallow sharply taking in the words that were to come, "he wanted to see everyone happy-"

"But you got to know. I don't get to know my own boyfriend is dying, his parents who loved him and raised him for 18 years don't get to know, but somehow YOU," she's shouting now, pointing her finger at me, "YOU who has only known him for THREE FUCKING MONTHS DOES."

Everyone has shifted in there seats, twenty pairs of eyes on us.

The professor coughs gaining the classes attention, "If everyone is done discussions you may leave early. Don't forget to look over this before class, we will be reviewing next week."

Notebooks flip shut, chairs screech against the linoleum floor, books dropped into backpacks and zipped shut before feet shuffle against the floor.

"Annabelle wait up," I gather up my things as quickly as possible as I see her heading through the door and into the hall.

By the time I push through the crowd I'm close enough to slip my digits around her arm, bringing her to a halt.

"Let me go." She demands trying to yank her arm out of my grasp but I don't.

"Look it's not as simple as you think. Don't you think it killed me to know?"

"It would have been an honor to know." Annabelle snaps in disagreement. "This is your fault."

Her words are a blow to my chest, out of all the ones she could have chosen those are the worst possible ones in which she decided upon.

"I have to live with the guilt Annabelle, so don't tell me what knowing would have been like because I already know. That's why I understand why Trevor didn't want anyone else to know."

I can see the way her face hardens at the mention of his name but I continue for I can't have her thinking what she already does. That I'm somehow the enemy here.

"The pain of finding out before is hell, you have to live in anticipation. Just because you know it's coming doesn't make the absence hurt any less. It doesn't prepare you it just makes you feel like shit, a guilty piece of fucking shit." I pour my innermost thoughts to her in the crowded hallway. People continue to pass by but aren't ignorant enough to impose or stand around to listen.

"You should feel that way," Her arms are crossed in front of her chest but her tear stained cheeks reveal it's merely a front she's put up to mask her fragile state.

"I'm sorry you're in pain too," She lowers her voice considerably as a group of professors pass us, "but I can't feel sorry for you. I would do anything to have known."

"I'm sorry you feel that way," I console looking down at my nike tennis shoes.

Annabelle exhales a heavy sigh, "Bye Declan."

I watch as she exits down the hall, feeling like the guilt piece of shit. No sooner then she's gone I feel a hand rest on my shoulder.

"Declan," I turn around to see my soccer coach, his hair gelled back in the front. If I didn't know him I would mistake him for another college student.

"Yeah, what's up?" I nod, readjusting my backpack strap on my right shoulder.

"Do you have a minute?"

My eyes glance down either side of the now empty hall, "yeah my next class isn't til one."

He starts walking, waving me to follow. Five minutes later we end up in the boys locker room.

"You're not here to kick me off the team or something, right?" I joke shuffling my hands in the front pockets of my jeans.

"No, not at all. Quite the opposite."

"Oh."

"You see Trevor was supposed to be the co captain of this team this season. But when he told me about his illness-"

"Wait y-you mean you knew?" I stutter.

"Of course. You saw the way he was passing out left and right. I'm the one who made him go to the doctors the first place."

The burden on my chests lifts a small degree to know I'm not the only one.

"I need you to step up Declan, to help lead this team, from the front lines."

"I don't know man-"

"Just think about it, we need you as a midfielder."

"I will."

"One more thing-"

I turn back around as he looks behind me, "his parents want his things from his locker, they might use some in memory of him at the funeral."

No.

"I know you two were good mates," the past tense stabs a knife through my chest, what he asks next digging it deeper, "can you clean out his locker? Please."

I swallow the unsettled feeling in my chest, screaming for me to say no, I can't and instead nod in agreement, not knowing how the hell I'm going to be able to do this.

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