10

                                    

                                          
It had already been three days since my encounter with Caden and I had not talked to him since then. He loathed me and I did not have the slightest of idea as to why. The bruises that he gave me were fresh as ever. Even though it had already been three days, the bruises were just getting darker. 
The once green bruise had now turned into dark and dirty purple with hints of blues, reds and greens. I had applied ointment over it three times a day for quick recovery, but my body had been like that since past two years. 
Slow recoveries was something I was used to now, but this time it was taking way longer than before, partly because his grip on me was strong and also because of lack of red blood cells in my body. 
I sighed looking at the bruises in the mirror and pulled my t-shirt down, not wanting to look at them any longer. I glanced at the wall clock in my room and sighed in relief when I realised there was still enough time for me to have a breakfast before going to school. 
I walked down the stairs and straight to the kitchen where I decided to make some grilled chicken sandwich. I already had the filling ready from last night, so I didn't have to worry about the food not getting ready on time.
Ten minutes later, the sandwiches were done, I grabbed one for me and packed the other for Grace as I knew her infatuation towards grilled chicken sandwiches. A smile instantly appeared on my face by thinking about how happy she would be on looking at the sandwich.
Fifteen minutes later, I heard the honking of the car and I took it as my cue to leave. Grabbing my bag and locking the door, I walked towards Grace's car and sat down on the shotgun with a plop. 
Just as I buckled the seat belt, her head turned towards me and she asked, "Why do I smell a grilled chicken sandwich?" I chuckled at her and lifted the paper bag that had her grilled chicken sandwich securely wrapped.
"Because I had brought you one."
"Just one?" She asked, grabbing the bag from my hand and unwrapping the sandwich.
Guess we were going to be late again.
"I only had that much filling left."
"Wait, you had this—" She said lifting her sandwich and then continued, "for dinner?" 
"Yep." I said, popping the 'p' and she started shooting daggers at me.
"And you thought it was not fucking important to call me over for dinner?" She asked, taking a bite from the sandwich. 
"I thought you said you were having guests over?" I asked rhetorically, amusement written all over my face.
"You could have just said the word." 
"I'll keep that in mind."
"You better." 
Twenty minutes later, we were making a run for our class with none other than Mr. Fitzgerald. Huffing and puffing we— no, I made my way to the class and took a deep breath to calm my breathing. As soon as we entered the class, he started glaring at us from beneath his glasses and I slowly hid myself behind Grace. 
"Don't be a fucking coward." She whisper-yelled at me and pulled me forward, pinching my arm.
"Ow, that hurt!" I complained and before she could retort back or pass some colourful words, Mr. Fitzgerald cleared his throat and we smiled sheepishly at him.
"What is both of yours excuse this time?" He asked and I was sure he was not going to spare us this time.
"I slept in and it's okay if you want to give us detention, it is my fault after all. Why would you let us sit in the class this time? We are sorry to disturb you." I said passing him an apologetic smile and turned around, ready to get out of the class and face the embarassment, when he spoke,