GAME OVER ━━ Lip Gallagher

CHAPTER FORTY

▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀

Game Over
chapter forty

▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀

SHE RELIVED THAT MOMENT AND OVER AGAIN. Every time she closed her eyes, she could feel the metal cut her skin. She could hear the conversations building around her. She could feel the hands helping her to her feet. It didn't help that someone had called the police and she was forced to sit in that god awful station that smelled of stale coffee and piss. The worst part, though, was when they asked her if she wanted to press charges. She didn't know. She had provoked him; she had bruised his already fragile ego. Could she really blame him for the way he lashed out.

If it was toward anyone else, she would blame him. She'd curse at him for not controlling himself, for being so chauvinistic that he couldn't get lost when asked. But because it happened to her, she felt as if it was her own fault. She had had bad things happen to her. She lost her home, got arrested. She knew that she wasn't innocent in any shape or form. Maybe that's why she felt responsible. Regardless, she couldn't get that morning out of her head. It was like a scratched record. It played that fatal moment over and over when she least expected it.

Even a full week later, her sleep was riddled by nightmares. She'd awaken in a cold sweat, crying out as the blood melted her face, her hands instantly moving to cup the bandaged surface. Her face was pale, decorated with dark circles. She struggled to get out of bed, to look at herself in the mirror. She was grateful for Alan and his calm demeanor. He had gone through tough things, he had seen worse. He had practice in this area. "Morning, Scarface." She flinched as Lip pushed her hair off of her shoulder, suddenly appearing behind her in the boy's bathroom. He had texted her an hour ago to meet him there, preferably to smoke a bit before he was forced back into his classes. "Not funny," she replied, fighting the urge to touch the bandage covering her injury. "You do realize I have class, right? Unlike you, I'm trying to graduate."

"Oh, yeah. You've got to snag first now that I'm out, huh?" He winked over at the girl before pulling the cigarette from his shirt pocket. He had been doing that a lot more frequently lately. She knew smoking relaxed him, but she had never expected him to get addicted. "I could have done it regardless of if you were there," she quickly argued, taking the smoke from his hand. "And you need to chill. Before you know it, you're going to start sounding like Grammy." He snorted. His fingers itched for the ciggie. Perhaps he had been getting a little too dependent on the vice. "It's not sexy." The corners of his lips quipped at her statement. "I'll always be sexy, pop rocks. Even with smoker's lung." She leaned against the bathroom counter, hands gripping tightly at the edge. She was never relaxed nowadays. "I saw Dicky earlier."

She sucked in a sharp intake of air. She knew that he was coming back to school sooner or later. She hated herself for being too much of a coward to stand up for herself when she needed it most. "Yeah," she sighed, voice taut. "There shoulda been a restraining order put against the creep." He stared long and hard, waiting for her reaction. His tongue prodded his cheek, searching for any way to satiate the hunger in his stomach. "I'm surprised Alan didn't put out a hit on the motherfucker. I mean, what if that shit scars?" - "Trust me, I've got enough anxiety about this. I don't need you adding onto it, thanks." His mouth snapped shut immediately. He figured she was struggling, the eye bags and remnants of dry mascara was enough. "I didn't know we were having guests." Both Phoebe and Lip turned toward the new edition to their conversation, Phoebe looking much less pleased to see the blonde standing there.