Pulling open the metallic door of my locker, I temporarily froze when a stranger stared back at me from the small mirror inside. Her green eyes were unusually large and circles as dark as her hair sagged beneath each of her eyes. Her skin was pale--seemingly a ghostly gray.
Without wanting to look at my reflection any longer, I slammed the locker shut with more force than was necessary, and made a beeline towards the nurse's office down the hallway.
Students had already begun to filter through the double doors of the entrance. Embarrassment of my ragged appearance caused the tips of my ears to flame a bright red as my cheeks heated up, undoubtedly flushing a deep crimson as I caught the disgusted looks they shot my way.
I ducked inside the sheltered confines of Mrs. Cane's office, quietly shutting the door behind me. I leaned against it, using it as support as I caught the breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding in my haste to get here without incident.
Poking her head into the small room attached to her office that served as a waiting room for students, Mrs. Cane hurriedly waved me over, and pulled out the chair beside her desk. Patting it, she requested, "Take a seat. You don't look so well."
I watched as Mrs. Cane's crisp, auburn hair bounced around her shoulders as she busily searched the cabinets for a plastic cup and thermometer. Pushing her glasses higher up her sharp nose, she handed me the plastic cup--now filled with water--and sat behind her desk as she watched me take a sip.
"Um, actually," I said, placing the cup on her desk, "I just came to ask for a change of clothes."
The kind nurse's blue eyes widened and she stopped fiddling with the thermometer. Expertly scanning her eyes over my poorly dressed, thin frame, she frowned and shook her head.
"Let me take your temperature first," she said, pointing the thermometer at me, "Open your mouth and place this under your tongue. Okay?"
Complying, I did as I was told and waited until the small machine buzzed.
"Just as I thought," Mrs. Cane said, discarding the used piece of thermometer into the trash can, "You have a fever. Did you drive to school?"
As an eighteen year old senior in highschool, I did not have my license. It wasn't like I could afford a car or the insurance that came with it. If it hadn't been for Jackson taking me under his wing immediately after my older brother's death two years ago, I would have been taken into foster care or I would have been homeless. I hadn't wanted either.
"No."
"Okay, who would you like me to call to come pick you up?" She wanted to know, turning to her computer as she punched my information into the system.
I'd almost told her to call Jackson out of class to take me home--his home, but that was impossible after our fight last night.
My parents were dead. My brother was dead. My extensive family lived across the country since I was legally old enough to live alone. There was no one else who could come pick me up.
Without thinking, I blurted, "Oh! Hazel...I mean, my, uh, my neighbor can give me ride?"
Mrs. Cane raised an eyebrow at my expression as I anxiously bit my nails, instantly regretting my words, but I knew I could not take them back now.
"Hazel? The name isn't in your emergency contact list," she announced after a few minutes of clicking. Flicking her gaze back to me, she asked, "You said she's your neighbor, correct?"
I nodded. Had the situation been different, I probably would have laughed at the fact that Mrs. Cane referred to Hazel Eyes as a female.
"Your primary contact is Mary Gomez whom you live with. Should I call her first?"
Quickly shutting her down, I waved my hand back and forth, refuting, "No. She's at...work. She's working."
What Mrs. Cane didn't know was that Mrs. Gomez, Jackson's mother, hadn't been living with us for the past couple of months. She'd been paying for the rent and electricity bills from where she lived with her new boyfriend a few towns over.
"Okay. I'll call your neighbor then," Mrs. Cane decided, plucking the phone off her desk. "What's her number?"
I was such an idiot! I scolded myself. I didn't know Hazel Eyes' number or even if he had a phone. I could only imagine the nurse's surprise when a masculine voice picked up on the other line instead of the feminine one she'd expected--that is, if I'd been able to supply her with a number.
"You know what? My house isn't too far from here. I can walk," I said, refusing to look her in the eyes as I gathered my limited belongings.
"That's not a good idea. Your condition could worsen. Are you sure that you want to walk home?"
"Yes," I responded, scurrying out of her office before she had the chance to stop me.
**********
As if out of pure habit, my legs had subconsciously carried me to Jackson's house. I still had the key in my pocket from when I had escaped his house, and I inconspicuously scanned the area for anyone. Determining the coast was clear, I inserted the key in the front door of the single-story brick house, and walked inside.
If it hadn't been for the fact that every item that I had ever owned was in this house, I would have never returned to the very place that starred in each one of my nightmares; nightmares that occurred both in my sleep and in my waking hours.
All of the lights were off as I passed through the familiar living room, proceeding down the hall that branched off from the kitchen. I'd been about to take a step into the first room on the right that I had claimed as my own when a noise from down the hall captured my attention.
Suddenly on high alert, blood rushed to my ears as adrenaline coursed through my body, causing my heart to pound in my chest.
Please, God. I prayed, begging, Please don't let Jackson be at home. He should be at school.
I couldn't force my body to move even an inch without the fear of making a sound which would inevitably give me away.
I waited for seconds, minutes, hours without daring to move a muscle as I heavily concentrated on listening. When I didn't hear another noise, I breathed a sigh of relief and took a step into my bedroom.
"Drew."
The small hairs on the back of my neck rose as I went rigid in absolute fear. Tears pricked the eyes that I squeezed shut, believing if I closed myself off from the world, I would be safe.
"I knew you'd come back," Jackson admitted slyly.
"Get away fr-from me," I stammered, keeping my back to him.
"Where have you been, huh? You can't just break my nose and ditch me in the street without an apology," he said very close to my ear. I could feel the hot breath rushing from his mouth as he invaded my personal space. His body heat burned through the thin fabric of my clothes.
"I'm sorry-"
"Bullshit," he snapped, "I'm going to make you truly sorry."
My body was wracked in terrorizing shivers as I stood there, shaking in hopelessness. I couldn't say a word, but I continued to keep my eyes clamped shut as he ran his slimy hands from my hips to my shoulders, eventually pinching my chin forcefully in his grasp.
"Look at me," he commanded through clenched teeth. I could feel his eyes scorching holes through my eyelids as he stood in front of me, leaning his face close to mine.
His close proximity made my skin crawl. I could smell his breath, initially shocked when the unbearable stench of alcohol that almost always accompanied him was absent. Instead, a refreshing mint filled my nostrils as he somehow got even closer to me, pressing his fiery skin against mine when he pinned me against the wall.
"Jackson, let me-"
"Look at me!" He bellowed. My eyes flashed open and I gasped at his appearance.
An oversize, white bandage was wrapped around his nose and he was sporting a fresh black eye due to my desperate jab at his face with my elbow. His eyes weren't bloodshot as I had expected them to be and he was able to firmly focus on my face.
For the first time since I could remember, Jackson was sober and fully aware of his actions. I couldn't be certain if this was safer than when he was under the influence of alcohol, or if this was much, much worse.
Practically seething, Jackson's shoulders rose and fell as he rapidly sucked in sharp breaths of air. His navy blue eyes were stirring with menacing storms which drastically contrasted from the sympathetic, sincere bright-eyed gaze he'd shared with me when we had first met.
"What did you do with that guy last night? I saw you walk away with him, Drew," he accused, searching my eyes.
I swallowed, wincing when his fingers dug deeper into mandible as pain flared up the side of my face. I'd have to wear a scarf to school tomorrow to cover the bruises that Jackson would leave behind.
"We didn't do anything. I was...I slept on the couch and left in the morning without telling him anything," I said, truthfully.
"What's his name? I'm going to kill him," he threateningly growled.
"I don't know," I choked out when his hand slid to my neck.
Jackson cursed under his breath, incoherently muttering how he couldn't remember the street nor the apartment Hazel Eyes had come from because he'd been drunk.
"Tell me his name," he repeated, shoving me into the wall.
Even if I had known Hazel Eyes' real name, I wouldn't have disclosed it to Jackson. Despite his indifferent attitude towards me, he treated me with far more kindness than my boyfriend and I wouldn't allow Jackson to find him.
I knew with absolute certainty that Jackson meant what he said and that he would not hesitate to kill Hazel Eyes. He'd almost taken my life before.
"Jackson, he wouldn't tell me his name!" I shouted, pushing against his sturdy chest with all of my might.
Jackson's bulky body didn't even budge as a cynical smirk lifted up the corners of his lips.
"Well, then I guess we're going to have some problems," he said. Bracing for his next attack, I closed my eyes once more, but it never came.
Separating himself from me, I opened my eyes in time to watch as Jackson exited from the room. The front door distantly rattled on its hinges and I cringed.
"I'm going to kill him." Jackson's voice echoed through my mind. Leaving all of my belongings behind, I dashed out after Jackson to find the garage door closing just as his car pulled out of the driveway.
The race was over before it even began. It was impossible to beat Jackson's car to Hazel Eyes' apartment, but the smallest bit of hope surfaced when he turned the corner, heading in the wrong direction. Eventually, Jackson would circle back, but I was at an advantage.
Leaping over the porch steps, I sprinted down the driveway and bolted for Hazel Eyes' home. The entire time I was pumping my arms with strings of hair flying wildly around my face, I thought about ways to give myself more time.
That was the fault in an hourglass; time was never gained, only lost. Yet, the more sand that was filtered to the bottom, the easier it became to see through the glass.
**********
Hi! What do you all think of this story so far? It will start to get much more intense from now on. Please let me know your thoughts by leaving vote and a comment! Thank you! :)
Also, I am planning to call this series, "The Worth It Series" as suggested by @briannafurno. I think it fits very well with the whole theme of the books. I've thought about calling it, "The Unbroken Series" as well, but I cannot decide which one to choose!