Her Pacifier: Secrets From The Past

Chapter 18

Jules P.O.V

My long legs guided me to that last pocket on my backpack, the tiny one containing the neon purple pills. I forgot I got them from that rude receptionist a few days ago, until now.
If I don't take one this instant my headache will become worse than the word unbearable. It should help instantly since it's aspirin. I know that's incredulous to believe and the advertisers just exaggerate so people leap to buy their products but I choose to believe it will seize the pain for tonight.

After tossing the bitter pill in my mouth and washing it down my throat with the water I had in my water bottle. I ignored Drae's eyes on me, threw myself on the tiny bed and groaned.

My head still hurt but not as much as my heart.

If your heart is as weak as glass, it's bound to shatter into a million pieces. Everytime it gets glued back together it will crash and shatter repeatedly, countless of times by that one and only person who can glue it back together but crash it yet again.

I can't believe I got fooled by a kiss, the thought makes me chuckle in disbelief.

"What's funny?" Drae asks.
Why do I always have to blurt out my thoughts? I turn my face away from him and face the wall.
"Nothing," I lie.
"I wasn't born yesterday if that's what you think," he says. I know for a fact he's brown eyes are rolling all the way back at me. Ugh.
"I never said you were born yesterday," I groan.
"I said if that's what you think-"
I glanced to him with stabbing glares interjecting his rant. Now he has it coming.
"Why do people always care about what I think or act as if they know what I think?"
My snap caught him off guard and he winced like they attacked him physically so I carried on. "You all don't know what I think and you never will! Do you know why? Because it's my thoughts, Drae, it's my dreams, my feelings and it's my cranium. Get that stuck into your fuc-"

A matron pushed open the door, interrupting my cuss and I grit my teeth in frustration as my rude words still wanted to be spat out. The old man poked his head into our cramped dorm room and with one grey eyebrow arched, he solemnly asked;

"What's going on here?"
Drae rolled his eyes and layed flat on his bed with his legs sprawled out and his arms under his head. I figured I had to be the one answering that question or the serious old man will barely leave.
Awesome! My head is throbbing again.

"Nothing," I lied. For the second time tonight.
"Nothing?" He repeated.
I shivered at the strong English accent that was now audible to be heard. There are so many English people in England and it's getting on my nerves. Why are they so many?!
Because it's England, Jules.
Right. 

"Nothing, Sir. Just getting ready for dinner," I beamed and attempted to fake a smile but failed. His eyes darted from Drae to I, then back to Drae again. The ignorant boy's face was mesmerising the chapped, cream ceiling as if the matron weren't even present. How rude.

"Get on with it then...quietly and not like some aggressive rats,"  he snarled and shut the door.

I exhaled a breath I never knew I was holding and slammed my face on the flat white pillow. I can tell I'm red like tomatoes because my flesh feels boiling hot out of anger, frustration, irritation, heartbreak and a bunch of other bad, bad stuff.

"Your feelings huh? This isn't only about me is it?" Drae murmured.
I huffed and cussed against the pillow when a phone rang. My phone rang. That annoying iPhone ringtone I hate especially when I have a life threatening headache breaking me down.

Not now. My subconscious mind whined but I answered the phone nonetheless.

"What?" I snapped into the speaker.
"Jules?" The deep voice questioned and my eyes enlarged at the familiar tone.
"Dad?"
Not now, not now, not now!
I removed the phone from my ear and gaped at the handsome blonde man on the Caller ID. Since when do I answer phone calls without looking at the Caller ID first? I slapped my forehead and my dad huffed.