Stuck With Him

Chapter Two

Chapter Two

                Two months and three days after he first asked me out was the first time I realized that this relationship was an imprisonment. It was a Thursday and also the day our school holds a celebration for the last football game of the season. The halls were buzzing with excitement. Tatum and Mallory were beside me as we walked down the crowded hall towards the football field.

                The doors that were directed towards the field were decorated with our school colors of navy blue, white, and black streamers that hung from the ceiling to the floor. We left the school building to find a good spot on the metal bleachers. The cold breeze around us made us huddle closer together. We were excited. We wanted to wish luck to the football players, to end the season nicely. Once we found a spot on the bleachers, Mallory and Tatum started talking and I excused myself for a moment to use the restroom.

                Then I saw it. Pressed against the school’s brick wall were two bodies—a boy and a girl. At first, I was too shocked to say anything, but then he saw me—Mark saw me staring. There wasn’t a look of ‘shock’ or ‘surprise’ across his face. It was like he knew I was coming his way and knew I wouldn’t make a huge deal in public. The girl stopped and stared at me and acted like she didn’t care.  She smirked at me and then ran her fingers ran all over Mark’s waist, but his body was as stiff as a stone.

                I felt a knob being pulled down my throat and a pit of an unknown feeling in my stomach. I took one last glance back at them. Mark was still looking at me and through his eyes, he asked me what I was going to do about it. And the answer was nothing.

                I ran straight to the nurse’s office and told her my stomach was hurting real bad, and I got to go home. My stomach actually hurt, but not in a physical manner.

                Once I got home, I curled myself in a ball on my bed. The blinds were closed and the door was shut. I could hear murmurs downstairs from my parents. My throat still felt like it was holding something down, but I couldn’t seem to get it out. I slept for a couple of hours until I woke up to my phone ringing.

                “Hello?” I croaked out. My eyes didn’t want to open. It was shut with my dry tears as glue.

                “It’s Thursday,” the voice on the other side of the line replied. I knew it was Mark. His voice was calm and collective, but there was an edge in his voice.

                “Okay, I’ll be there.”

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                It took every ounce of energy to not chase down my dad’s car as he was driving down the Jones’ long driveway. It was a Thursday; the day where I’d eat dinner with the Jones. My blue eyes were swollen and red around the cornea and were darker than usual.

                The Jones’ household was a mansion in my eyes. They had large white pillars decorating the front door with door-sized windows every couple of feet. It was equivalent to the White House, but maybe a couple of rooms less. I walked up the pathway and rang the doorbell that chimed throughout the great residence.

                “Hello Ingrid!” Mrs. Jones greeted, opening the door. She had a large smile on her face, but she still looked as prim and proper. She had a tight bun on the top of her head and a pencil skirt that enhanced her curves. Mrs. Jones was a famous model in her days, but became a fashion designer once she had Mark.

                “Hello, Mrs. Jones,” I replied with a small smile. It was hard to smile. I didn’t want to, but I had to put a mask on to hide my emotions around her.