Don't

9:00pm, Alleyway Behind Kroger

The rest of the day went by smoothly. Connor left me to myself and the teachers let us have a break after all the tests. Jake and Liz chartered nonstop about a festival on Friday while I sketched in my drawing pad to stay occupied.
Finally they day ends and I walk home empty- minded and calm. A breeze ruffles through my hair and leaves skitter across the pavement on invisible legs.
When I get home, Mom is fast asleep on the sofa, a stack of cans at the foot of the stairs. Nita is working on homework in the kitchen with a plate of leftover spaghetti in front her.
She looks up when I enter and gives me a small wave. I nod and walk upstairs, putting my book bag on the floor.
Wind whistles through my window screen and I lay back on my Queen sized bed. The blankets ruffle around me and I pick up my phone to check the time.
3:27
I've got time to kill.
I put the phone down and sit up, rubbing my arms absently. A dull throb comes from my forearms and I decide I should clean them today.
I rip off the sweatshirt, exposing the ripped and bruised skin underneath. My arms would have been nice to expose. Without the wounds the skin was soft and smooth, a perfect tone of tan, and had a fresh scent of vanilla.
I walk into the bathroom and pull a sponge out of the bathtub. I grab a bottle of soap and rubbing alcohol then mix them with a sweet scented lotion.
I lather the mix onto my skin and grit my teeth at the pain. It lights my skin on fire, the inflammation pluses through each wound as a few reopen.
I grab the sponge and scrub away the remaining blood and scabs the skin now cleansed and soft. I wash off the sponge and sink then pat my arms dry with a towel.
I walk back into my room and turn the fan on, letting the air cool my cuts. It feels good against my skin, like ice on a burning stove, melting and cooling the surface with a satisfying hiss.
I few hours pass and I keep myself occupied, playing chess with Nita, sketching, and making sure Mom stays asleep, and typing my essay on my laptop.
By the time it's 7:50, my anxiety is killing me. I put Nita to bed and turn the lights, leaving Mom a few shots and drinks on the table beside her in case she wakes up wanting one.
The clock strikes 8:30 and I creep downstairs into the kitchen. I grab a kitchen knife and slip it into the side of my boot in case of emergencies then slip my sweatshirt on. The seconds tick away and I look back one last time before disappearing out the front door.
Autumn air greets me in a whoosh as I open the door and step onto the sidewalk. I walk down the walkway and cross the street, walking towards Kroger.
I check the time again. 8:50. I pick up my pace and walk back to the back side of the store, my feet clicking on the asphalt. Voices drift through the alleyway behind it and Connor's voice rings out into the night air.
"There she is! I was afraid you'd bail out," he chuckles and I spot him leaning against the wall, wearing the same outfit as last time.
I nod and lean against the wall.
"So why did you bring me here?" I ask impatiently.
He smirks and snaps his fingers. A group of guys who I recognize as Jack, Vince, and Lane come out of the shadows dragging a limp form by the arms.
I narrow my eyes and gaze at the bloody and busted boy who's head lays limply on his shoulder.
"Connor what's this?" I scold.
He frowns and clenched his fist into a tight ball.
"This little brat decided it would be funny to make me look like an idiot in front of the whole school," he grows.
The boys head shakes a bit, but I still can't see his face.
"No, I didn't mean to-," the boy begins but Vince whacks him in the back of his head with his hand. The boy groans and spits on the ground.
"Hey!" I snap at Vince and he cowards slightly.
I watch the boy tense and he matters something under his breath.
I know that voice. It sounds so familiar...where have I..?
I shake my head and turn to face Connor.
"So what do you want me to do?" I ask.
Connor turns in my direction and shakes a finger at me.
"To teach him a lesson," he snarls.
My blood runs cold and I swallow.
"I don't think I should do that, I mean he's beaten up enough don't you think?" I ask, not wanting to hurt this poor kid.
Connor growls and grabs the kid by his brown hair, making his neck strain to face me.
I nearly scream.
Jake.
Recognition passive this eyes and they narrow.
"Amara?" he asks and I feel my face grow hot with embarrassment. Connor smacks him in the side of the face and before I can stop myself I scream.
"Stop!" I yell at Connor.
Connor turns his head in to me and glares at my eyes.
"What did you say sunshine?" he asks with rage.
I gulp. "I said stop. It's my job to beat him isn't it?" I glare at him, struggling to keep my voice steady.
He grins. "Oh of course, my apologies, sunshine. Don't wanna steal your job here," he chuckles, stepping back and leaving me space to get close to Jake.
I nervously bend down close to his ear and pretend to grab his neck with my hands.
"I'm so sorry," I whisper, then lean back up, clenching my hand into a tight fist.
I place one hand on his shoulder and the other I draw back.
With a deep breath and swing my fist into the side of his skull. His head jerks to the side and he goes sprawling into the pavement.
I feel tears threaten to spill and I bite my lower lip. The gang cheers and yells in approval at Jake's lifeless body. Connor laughs and give me a side hug.
"Nice one sunshine, now go on home and smoke a few," he says, shoving a pack of Camel Cigarettes in my hand and running off into the night laughing with his gang.
As soon as their out of earshot I rush to Jake and toss the cigarettes into a trash bin. Jake means in pains and clutched his head painfully.
"Jake I'm so sorry, I had to or they would have never left," I weep, my tears soaking his hair as I lift him onto my back.
All I get out of him is a groan then a cough as blood drops From his lip. With a grunt I hoist him up and start home.
When I get home Mom is still asleep and I creep upstairs past Nita's bedroom and into mine. I lay Jake down in the bed and go get my first aid kit.
I run Into the bathroom and rummage around until I find a blue case with a red cross on it. I yank it out and run back into my room. Jake coughs and sputters, his eyes still closed.
I pull out the cleaning wipes and wash his arms and face. Then, I wrap his crooked hand in a gause and hold ice on his swollen lip. His chest evens out and I know he's gone asleep.
I carefully fix him up a bit more then prop him up with the pillows on the bed. I turn out the lights and set up a pillow and sleeping back on my bedroom floor so I don't bother him.
What I going to do with him in the morning? His parents will probably have police on my case if they find out!
I groan and lean back. It'll have to wait until morning.
I slowly start to drift off.