I Was Abducted

Chapter 15 Jackson

A tiny hand latches onto my arm, stopping me from walking any further. "Jackson," blondie says calmly with her angelic voice. "T-thank you," she stutters. I just stare in a trance.

Her blue eyes dart to my bloody fists and her forehead creases in worry. "Shit," she mutters. "Follow me," she says like a woman on a mission. She guides me into the first bathroom she sees and points at me to stay like a dog.

My body is swaying uncontrollably and I stumble a little. My hands grip onto the wall and blondie grabs me again to steady me. Every time she touches me it feels like I've been electrocuted.

She turns the golden faucet to warm and tests it with her tiny finger before putting one of my bloody hands under. This is the second I had anyone clean up my bloody hands after a fight.

Once in 9th grade, I got into a brutal fight. I messed the kid up pretty bad and got expelled. Mom picked me up, disappointed as usual. As soon as we got home she cleaned up my disgusting knuckles and bruised cheekbone.

But when dad got home he was pissed. Let's just say dad wanted a fight of his own. We both had black eyes and mom made dad sleep on the couch.

"I don't have any rubbing alcohol on me so this water will have to wash it out," Blondie says cleaning the other hand.

The water in the sink drains red and smells irony. My spine shakes from a flashback of when Raymond would beat me senseless then wash off in the sink.

"You okay?" Blondie asks turning to me with furrowed brows and parted lips. I nod her a yes, but she keeps frowning before returning to my hand.

"Keeps your hands there," she instructs before crouching and rummaging through the cabinets in the bathroom. She pulls out a box of bandaids.

After drying off my wet hands with a white hand towel, staining it red, she places a fuck ton of bandaids on my knuckles. I hate when people do this shit for me, but usually, I just let them think they can help me. It makes them feel better about themselves.

"There you go. Clean them with rubbing alcohol when you get home... Please," she insists before staring at my dull eyes with her electric blue eyes.

I don't say anything in return which makes her lip quiver. It looks like she's about to cry and my heart begins to panic. I don't do well when people cry it annoys me, but to see her cry because of me would destroy me.

"If you don't clean them it could get infected. Please, it's my fault you're hurt." I told you helping others only is because someone wants to make themselves feel better.

"Your fault?" I ask a bit annoyed. I wouldn't have beat that kids ass if he would have kept his grimy hands to himself. And I definitely beat his ass to make myself feel better. It definitely wasn't her fault.

"Yeah, you got in a fight because he was being a creep.. right?" She asks hesitantly.

I nod before scanning my knuckles. I can't even feel the pain. It's like I'm completely numb. My phone vibrates in my pocket and I swiftly pull it to my face.

Luke: Hey bro, are you alright? I heard about you beating that kid's ass. Let's get out of here Sam's shit faced.

Me: Meet at car.

I place my phone back into my pocket and face back to Blondie. She still looks pretty shaken up. "I got to go," I say blankly before pushing past her and leaving her in the bathroom alone.

I'm still full of adrenaline and if and motherfucker tries me on my way out I won't hesitate to swing again. When I'm sober my fights are more gruesome so, that douche was lucky I'm crossfaded right now.

I shoulder knock a bunch of people before I finally make it outside. All the guys are already in the car so, I climb into the passenger seat.

"You rocked that kids shit," Liam laughs as soon as I shut the car door. I nod and smirk. It felt good to get my frustrations out. He was crazy to think I'd let him touch her like that.

"Yeah that guy was bound to get an ass beating, Nadia is my step-sister," Henry says behind me. My shoulders tense for a moment then I realized... why do I even give a fuck?

Why do I care about what happens to her? She's nothing to me. What the fuck is wrong with me?

I shrug out of my thoughts and Luke begins to drive. I quickly roll down my window a pull out a smoke. I light the cigarette and relax my muscles.

"You should join the team," Sam says in the backseat with his head resting on the window.

"Drunk," I scoff. Join the football team, is he really that drunk?

"I may be really fucking drunk right now, but I can totally see you tackling someone." Sam closes his eyes for a moment. He's trying to collect himself.

"No," I say rolling my eyes and taking another hit.

"I think it's a good idea. We could use a machine like you," Luke chimes in. Jesus Christ these guys are dumb as fuck.

"Drive," I instruct Luke since he wants to focus on everything, but the road in front of him.

"Just try out man," Henry says like an inspiring add on the T.V.

"Guys... I think I'm going to puke," Sam says starting to panic.

"Roll down the window you idiot," Liam says annoyed. Sam rolls down the window and sticks his head out.

"You better not get shit on my car or, I'm going to kill you," Luke threatens.

Sam empties his stomach out onto the road and Luke keeps driving. Sam's a mess.

The car comes to a slow halt in front of my house. "You sure you don't want to sleep at my house?" Luke asks turning to me.

I nod before getting out of the car. The light by the doorstep lights up my path. Luke's car speeds off into the dark. As I make it to the door I stomp on my cigarette and brace myself for impact.

I carefully slip my key into the keyhole and twist gently, trying not to make a sound. The door creeks open and I cringe.

I tiptoe across the living room getting flashbacks of when I would try to sneak around when Raymond was sleeping. My stomach twists at the thought.

The kitchen light flickers on and I completely stop in my tracks. Shit. "Jackson Peter, what the hell? You left without even telling me," mom scolds me.

I shrug my shoulders and she walks closer to me examining me. She takes a sniff off my collar and scrunches her nose in disgust. "You smell like weed and alcohol," she growls. Damn, she's like a drug dog.

"Where were you?" She asks crossing her arms over her chest. She's in her robe, maybe she was sleeping, or waiting for me to get home. She does that a lot.
"Answer me!" She orders like a police investigator.

"A friend's," I lie. I don't even know who's house that was. But I was with people I know so, it wasn't a complete lie.

"Who's?" She questions again. I should have been quieter.

"Mark's," I lie again. Her gaze falls to my bandaged hands and she gasps loudly. Dramatic.

"What happened?" She asks grabbing a hold on my hand and pulling it to her face. "You fought someone, don't lie to me!" She yells.

"Nothing," I say staring at her angry face.

"Fine don't answer me. But are you okay?" She asks slightly tearing up. She gives too many damns.

I nod once and wait for her to dismiss me. "Be more careful Jackson," she breathes clearly exhausted of me.

"Sleep," I say pointing for her to go upstairs and to bed. She's too tired to have to care right now.

"Next time tell me you're leaving and when you're getting home," she insists and I nod. "Goodnight, you go to bed too," she says softly smiling and I walk past her to the basement.

As soon as my head hits the pillow I fall asleep. Fully dressed and on top of my blankets. Even my shoes are on.