Since You've Been Gone

chapter 22- punches

losin' control - russ

"He's going to what?" Layla shrieked. Her eyes were the size of saucers as she stared at me and her mouth was slightly open. "I'm going to kill him, Hope."

She began to rant about the ways she was going to murder Jack, but I was too busy, staring at Connor to pay attention to what she was saying.

Connor was mad. Like pulling at his hair, pacing up and down the halls, and clenching his fists, type of mad. I had never seen him like this.

"Connor," I spoke. I don't know if he didn't hear me over Layla's ranting or because my voice was so raw and quiet from crying. "C."

This time he eyes snapped down to mine, and he momentarily stopped pacing the tile floors. The storm raging in his eyes seemed to calm for just as second as he looked at me. I could see the sorrow, the horror, and the shock in his eyes. But just as quick as he calmed down, he was tense and rigid once again. Now his eyes were full of anger.

Connor gazed at me again, shaking his head and flexing his hands. Quickly he turned on his heels and stormed down the hallway and around the corner. All I could do was watch him with swollen eyes.

I felt like every time he saw me nowadays, I was crying over something. Today was his first day back to school here and our first day of senior year, and I was in massive shit already. I was a terrible friend.

"Hope..." Layla slid her back down the walls and sat down next to me on the floor.

"My family is going to hate me," I whispered. My chest burned with fear and anxiousness. My heart physically hurt, and each time I took a breath in, I thought I might explode.

"You didn't do anything wrong, Hope."

"That doesn't make me feel any better." I turned my head and stared into her dark brown eyes that were full of sadness. Sadness for me and the situation that I had gotten myself into.

"What can I do to help, H?"

"I-I don't know Layla, what do I do? Do I tell my parents? Like what do I do in this situation?" The tears I was trying to keep at bay were threatening to spill down my cheeks.

"You need to tell your dad, Hope." I shook my head at the very thought of telling my dad about Jack's plans. "Hope you have to. He can help you."

There was no "good" way to go about this. Jack was going to expose me in probably the most horrifying way possible. He was going to carelessly give out pictures of me where I was the most vulnerable, and he didn't care. The boy I thought I was going to marry was turning into a monster, and there was nothing I could do about it.

The first time I had sent nudes to Jack was around six months into our relationship. We were still in the honeymoon phase at that point, and he had just helped me overcome losing the most important person in my life: Connor. I was hopelessly in love with him after that. My vision was clouded by love and how happy Jack made me.

So, I did what every other almost 16-year-old did with the "love of their life"; I turned the lights off, hopped in bed, and snapped a couple pictures of my naked body. It was so dumb, and the pictures weren't even that good, but Jack loved them, and I loved Jack. After that, I sent some any time Jack asked for them. That turned out to be a lot more often than I expected, but as a result, I got a lot better at taking the pictures, and I wasn't as embarrassed to send them.

Looking back now, I can't help but realize how stupid that was. The mere fact that I sent nudes to Jack over once a month, meant that there were hundreds of my nudes. Hundreds of pictures that Jack had the opportunity of picking to share with the world.