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Samantha

I slowly wake up to the sound of voices talking downstairs. I open my eyes and the sun is shining bright through the curtains, blinding me. I move my body a little bit and I wince. Pain shoots through my entire body and I feel like I've been hit by a truck. My throat and neck hurts bad and my eyes feel swollen from crying.

"What time is it?" I mumble to myself. I grab my shattered phone and unlock it. It was almost two in the afternoon. "Shit, it's late."

I slowly sit up, my muscles aching. I put my bare feet on the ground and hiss in pain. There are cuts on the bottom of my feet from running to my car last night. I sigh and look down at my wrist and there is a bruise from where Bryson grabbed me. I still feel in shock. I never thought this would happen to me.

I gain the energy to stand up and I walk to the bathroom that is connected to the bedroom. I look at myself in the mirror and hot tears well up in my eyes. There are dark purple marks on my neck and arms and the bruise on my face is still prominent. What the fuck am I doing? How could this happen?

I brush my teeth and then turn on the shower, making it steaming hot. Hopefully this will help the pain. I take of the hoodie that Logan lent me and the clothes I was wearing last night. I step into the steamy shower carefully, trying not to hurt my feet more. The hot water flows down my back and my muscles start to relax. I grab some shampoo and start to gently scrub my head. It is tender from when Bryson pulled it last night. He really fucked me up. I can't go back to him after this.

I condition my hair and start to scrub my body with the sweet smelling body wash. My thoughts lead to Abel and our kiss last night. His lips felt so good on mine. He was being so sweet and so gentle, I honestly wasn't expecting it from him. I felt so vulnerable last night and I don't know why I kissed him. It felt so good but I don't want things to be complicated between us. He even said it himself we are only friends. I have enough to worry about right now, and a relationship isn't what is meant for me right now.

I finish up my shower and grab the towel on the rack. I dry off and walk into the bedroom to see folded clothes on the end of the bed. There was a note on top it.

I had to go and run some errands. Here are some clothes for you and there's food for you downstairs. I'll be back in a bit- Logan

It's nice to have a good friend right now. I look at the clothes and they have new tags on them. It was a pair of Pac-Sun jeans and a black Nike hoodie. I look on the floor and there's two pairs of shoes and some socks. There was a brand new pair of Air Maxes and a pair of checkered slip-on Vans. I smile a bit. Logan has always been the one to spoil the people he loves and although I am not a gift person at all, the gesture feels nice sometimes.

I change into the new clothes and put on the Vans. I put my hair into a bun and I fix my hoodie so that my neck is covered. I go into the bathroom and go through the drawers, looking for any makeup that Natasha might have left behind. She usually stays in this guest room and I know she has been over here with Logan a lot lately. I open up a drawer and find it filled with spare makeup.

"Yes!" I say to myself. Natasha always comes through even when she is not here. I apply foundation to my face and neck and try my best to cover all my bruises. I try and do my makeup pretty, adding some mascara and eyeliner. I pencil in my eyebrows and add some blush, careful not to uncover the bruise on my cheek. I look at myself in the mirror once I'm finished and faked a smile. "Looks like nothing ever happened," I say sadly to myself.

I grab my shattered phone and go downstairs to the kitchen. I feel my stomach growling once I walk into the kitchen. I smell food and I look to see a styrofoam plate. I open it and it has a hamburger and extra fries with extra pickles in there. I guess I missed breakfast time. I sit down at the table and start to eat my food. It hurts to swallow, so I have to eat slowly. I start to go through my phone and I see a bunch of text messages.

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