Claimed

Chapter Two

Chapter Two

Grace had been awoken to the sound of her mother yelling on the phone. Blurry eyed and half asleep, Grace snuggled deeper into her duvet, wanting to will herself back to sleep. But it made no difference. Her mother’s voice had grown higher, more pitched, and shrill to Grace’s already ringing ears. Groaning in weary, Grace used her elbows to lift herself up and winced as she caught sight of the pool of dried blood on the white duvet. Sitting on her heels, Grace gazed down at her forearm and a hitched gasp slipped from her lips.

         It was a canvas of bright scars. It appeared like an artist had slashed red paint (both light and dark) on her ivory skin .She tugged down on her sleeves of her gray sweat shirt and scrambled off her bed.  In a record time Grace rolled up her duvet and stuffed it into her wicker harmer next to the window. Checking her sheets to make sure that there wasn’t a spot of blood; Grace looked around again and spotted the blade.

         She winced at the very sight of it.

         She nudged her big toe on the blade until it disappeared beneath her bed. She’ll have to deal with it later.

         Grace smoothed back her dark brown locks, and made her way out of her bedroom to investigate her mother’s sudden fit of anger. As she neared the bottom of the staircase, Grace caught a few words her mother was billowing.

         “—have you the slightest idea how much she’s suffering?” Eliza demanded. “You were the one who left her. There is no way in Hell that I would—what does that has to do with anything?”

         Grace found herself walking back up the stairs, eyes wide in disbelief. She couldn’t believe it. Her Dad had actually called them after three months of no contact and he was discussing Grace to her own mother. Placing a hand over her pounding heart, Grace made her way back to her bedroom, closed and locked her bedroom door, and collapsed on her bed with a groan.

         She felt so conflicted. One part of her wanted, needed, to talk to her father while the other could have given less of a damn if she ever heard from him again.  Throwing her right arm over her eyes, Grace evened out her breathing. Gods how she wanted to go back to sleep….

         The ringing of her cell phone made Grace sits up and reaches on the nightstand and stared at the caller ID.

         It was her Dad.

         She threw the phone back on the nightstand and let it ring. It rang and rang and rang until she couldn’t take it anymore and covered her ears. She didn’t want to hear what he had to say—she couldn’t hear what he had to say because she knew, just knew, that she would break down.

         That she’ll beg him to come back.

         Demand to know why he left her behind—his little girl that he always said he loved more then life itself.

         “I just can’t deal with it,” she said softly, rolling to her side. “Not now.”

“Ms. White, do try to at least pretend you care about what I’m trying to drill into your incompetent mind,” Mr. Brooks was saying in a stiff, heavily accented voice.

         Grace looked back into his droopy, bloodshot brown eyes and gave a disconcerting shrug. She really couldn’t be bothered to pretend that she cared about English 11.  She lowered her eyes back to her sketch book and resumed drawing her cartoon animation of Mr. Brooks.

         It was an improvement, she decided as she raised her eyes briefly to his flushed, round pink face. A definite improvement. 

         There was a sharp tap on her shoulder and Grace turned back to see her friend Eva Skies staring at her with wide, warm brown eyes. She handed Grace the folded not in her hand and nodded towards the back of her room where Jace Gardner was sitting.  Grace took the note from Eva, turned around and opened it.

         It read:

Doesn’t change anything. Sorry.

Grace gritted her teeth in frustration and tore the note in two.

         Fine, she thought bitterly.  It’s not like I really give a crap.

         Breathing heavily, Grace gathered her books and stood up. She needed some air.  Brushing past Mr. Brooks—and blandly ignoring his warning of a demerit—Grace stepped out of his classroom and made her way to the girl’s bathroom. Depositing her books on the edge of the sink, Grade stared at her reflection.

         She was such a fool. She should have known better then to trust Jace Gardner—it was like trusting the Devil himself. He played her along this entire time, and then bam just outright tore her down.

         She was stupid to believe that he actually gave a damn about her.  Combing her trembling fingers through her tangled brown hair, Grace pressed her forehead against the smooth surface of the mirror and took a deep, shaky breath.

         Never again, she promised herself. Never again will she trust another person. It just wasn’t worth the pain and humiliation and resentment she knew would rise once they showed their true colors.

“Grace, he’s staring at you again.” Eva whispered in her ear, her eyes trained firmly onto Grace’s face to see her reaction.

         Grace shrugged and popped a French fry in her mouth.  

         The cafeteria in Lakewood’s High School was full of laughing and chatter. The heavy smell of fried foods and Clorox Bleach on the floor filled the air. Grace and Eva were sitting at their usual table besides the window, facing away from the rest of the social wanna-be’s.

         “So,” Eva said slowly, munching on her greasy cheese pizza. “What did the note say?”

         Grace shrugged again and popped another fry in her mouth.

         Eva sighed. “What happened to you, Gracie? You used to tell me everything and now…now it’s like I’m friends with a stranger.”

         Grace swallowed her fry and turned to look into Eva soft, round boyish face. She smiled and said, “He said it doesn’t change anything. Sorry.”

         “Oh, Gracie.” She threw an arm around Grace, leaving the scent of bubble gum perfume on her. “Jace is a jerk. He had no right to—“

         “It’s cool, Eva,” Grace quickly said. “It doesn’t matter anymore. Let’s just drop it.”

         “Are you sure you don’t want to talk about it?” Eva pressed.

         Grace nodded, munching on her turkey sandwich to avoid having to say anything.