Worth Fighting For | Book #1

Chapter 60

Savannah James

"Shit, shit, shit, shit," I stumbled furiously through my front door, thanking the heavens that my mother was dutifully obliged to a night shift, otherwise, I would not be in this exact position, "shit!"

Before getting home, I'd managed to somehow forge my way back through the crowd and back to my car, lacking the hesitation to slam my foot onto the acceleration and speed out of the fields before I was recognised by any one of my friends. It was bad enough having to fight in front of them, but now my evening was written over my bruised features, something I'd not thought about as much as I should have.

The mask and hood were pulled away hastily by my own hand as I pulled out the first aid kit and made my way to the downstairs bathroom, beginning my treatment of what I had yet to discover.

My eyes were scrunched closed when I arrived at the position in front of the mirror. I held my breath as I opened my eyes, unsure as to what the damage would be, only knowing that it hurt like a bitch.

When I moved my gaze and finally opened up my eyes however, I was ultimately shocked at the cuts and gradual bruises forming around the skin on my face. I really should have thought about it in advanced if I thought I'd be able to hide this so easily from everyone.

A sharp knock at the front door sounded just as I managed to splash water over my face, shedding most the blood to reveal my relatively beaten skin. I scrubbed a little more as the knocking continued, obviously adamant of wanting me to answer.

However, I remained locked away, hidden in the bathroom with various towels and water to somehow make my face look a little more presentable, given the fact that I was due to be back at school tomorrow.

My heart continued to hammer with the persistent and increasingly loud knocking, ensuing a natural panic inside of me that disregarding the guest knocking would cause something fatal to occur. What if it was a family member in an emergency? Maybe my mother forgot something?

My mind reeled with the possibilities when I finally made the decision to answer it. I'd managed to wipe all remnants of blood and dirt from my face, revealing only the almost forming bruises and a couple scratches. I applied a little concealer to various patches as the knocking continued, signalling to me that I probably needed to answer it.

A deep breath escaped my lips as I made my way to the front door, quickly checking to see that my face still seemed a little battered, yet it was nothing someone would be able to notice under the darkness of the unlit house.

I pulled the door open by only a small inch, holding my foot behind it to ensure that I knew who it was before opening it up even more.

However, my whole heart and soul dropped down into my stomach when Josh was stood on my porch, still reeling from what I assumed to be his own fight. His eyes struggled to find mine, shed behind the shadow of the door when I kept the same distance between us.

"What do you want, Josh?" My voice and words sounded cold, but despite everything, he was still the last person I wanted seeing me like this. I knew he'd figure it out right away, and I couldn't look at him the same way with what his reaction would most likely be.

"Can you at least let me in. We need to talk."

"We've talked already."