What Did I Do?

The Aftermath

Clare POV

I had just gotten home from the Dot. I was sitting on my bed, and I was crying. I looked at myself in the mirror across the room. I could see the massive bruises on my arms from ten feet away. I didn't know what to do.

I kept getting notifications from that damn Facebook post. People commenting on how Saint Clare wasn't so saintly anymore. People like Alli scolding Drew for posting something so vulgar about his girlfriend. People like Dallas asking if he was drunk posting, with a laughing-crying face following. No one knew how serious this situation was. And they weren't going to. End of story.

I stood up and winced and the pain creeping through my upper thighs. I had had sex before, a few times, and I had never been sore like this.

I walked over to my dresser and grabbed a pair of jeans, and a long sleeved blouse, a pair of underwear, the granny-panty kind, and some socks. I carried them quickly across the hall to the bathroom so I could take a shower, thankful I didn't run into my mom on the sprint there.

I turned on the water and the steaming spray rained down into the tub. I looked into the mirror. There were bags under my eyes. My face looked almost unrecognizable. This was total bullshit. I wanted to slam something into my reflection.

I undressed as quickly as I possibly could, and I stepped into the water. The scalding steam pelting my body; stinging the wounds that lay on the surface, but numbing those that lay beneath.

I stood there, under the stream and cried. And cried. And cried. And cried. Until I had no more tears to cry and Jake was banging on the door, complaining that he had to fix his hair. What a pedestrian problem. If he only knew.

I stepped out of the shower and dried off. I redressed just as quickly as I had undressed, maybe even quicker. Then, I opened the door to see Jake standing in front of me. I had to bend my head almost to a ninety-degree angle just to see his face.

"You finished?" He asked snarkily.

"Quite," I responded, pushing past him and isolating myself in my bedroom.

I sat on my bed ready to stare at the wall until something motivated me to move, when I heard my IM ping go off on my computer. Now, I understand that many in this situation would not want to see people or talk to them, but every case is different. I am the exception.

I picked up my laptop and looked at the message that had popped up on my screen:

E-Golds56: Are you all right?

Clare_E42: Yeah, I guess. Why do you ask?

E-Golds56: I saw Drew's post. It didn't sound like something you would do.

I breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe I had made the wrong decision, dating Drew. Maybe I should have waited everything out with Eli. Maybe we truly are soulmates.

Clare_E42: You really do know me...

E-Golds56: Do you want to go somewhere and talk?

Clare_E42: Please?

E-Golds56: I will be there in a few. Wait for me out front? Don't need Jake killing me.

Clare_E42: Of course.

I was smiling. Truly smiling for the first time in a while. Eli knows exactly how to make me feel better, what to say, and when to say it. He is my Prince Charming, and maybe this was my time to finally realize it.

I threw my bedroom door open, surprising Jake, who had just stepped out of the bathroom wearing only a towel. He let out a yelp, and me a giggle as I proceeded to bound down the stairs. I told my mom I was going somewhere with a friend and before she could object I raced out the door and onto the front steps.

I didn't have to wait very long, as Eli's parents lived about two blocks away from mine. His parent's big Volkswagen van pulled up in front of my house. I was black with painted skulls and flames along the body. Eli really was a direct image of his parents.

I jumped up and ran around the front of the car and hopped into the passenger seat. I literally mean hopped, too, the van was lifted, and I am much too short to just slide into a seat like that.

Eli turned to me as I finished buckling my seatbelt. "Where shall we go, miss?" He asked, a gentle twinkle in his eye.

"Um, let's go to the abandoned concert arena off 7th," I suggested to the dark-haired man sitting in the driver's seat.

"All right," he replied, gently pushing on the gas and driving in the direction of the former stadium.