I haven't slept last night. The bags under my eyes would attest of that if it wasn't for the dark bruises that cover the majority of my face, from the inside corner of my eyes to the bottom of my nose. I am almost unrecognizable, I think as I look at myself in the bathroom mirror, gently patting the area with my fingers. The pain is a lot better today, mainly helped by the drugs I got at the clinic yesterday. I spent the night trying to reach James, without any luck. If only I knew where he lived, I would have ran to his place. Unfortunately, I only know his neighbourhood, and unless I knock at every single door there, I have no way of knowing which one is his. Despite everything that happened yesterday, I decided to go to uni today and find out one way or another where James lives. I am sure with enough begging, the school secretary will give up his address. And then, there's Brad, also caught in the middle of all of this because of me. I mean, I know he is no innocent here, but this has nothing to do with him. It's about me, and Reggie. Joaquin shouldn't even have been part of it. My plan was simple, go to Birgmingham and get to Reggie. How did it go so wrong? Now both James and Brad are probably hurt if not dead because of my lack of thinking.
I let out a long sigh thinking about the mess that is my life and get started on covering up my bruises with a ton of makeup.
When I arrive at school, Isaac and his gang are nowhere to be seen. My imagination is running wild as to why none of them are here today. Has Joaquin planned an attack on all of them? Has he killed them? Or has Isaac's gang found out about Joaquin's plan and attacked before his guys could? Or did they simply have business elsewhere today? After thinking about it for probably too long, I make my way to the admin building where I know I'll find James's address.
"Hi miss, can I help you with anything?", the blond lady behind the desk greets me when I enter the building.
"Hi, yes actually, I was wondering if you could help me get my friend's address", I ask with my brightest smile.
She looks at me surprised, her eyebrows furrowed.
"I'm afraid I can't give out students' personal information", she answers in a tone anything but apologetic and I restrain from swearing at her.
Understandably, that wouldn't be very helpful.
"It's really important", I say with begging eyes. "He might be in danger", I add and the expression on her face changes from annoyance to alarm.
"In danger? What kind of danger?", she asks, not able to hide her worry now. "If what you say is true, we need to alert the authorities. What's your friend's name?"
I refrain from rolling my eyes. She is obviously used to being asked for people's addresses. Fuck, this is not gonna work.
"Did I say danger? I mean, yes. Hm, he drank too much last night, and I'm worried he's gonna choke on his own puke", I lie blankly.
Her eyebrows furrow again, and I can tell she doesn't believe me.
"Your friend's name", she repeats.
"Are you gonna call the cops if I give you his name?"
"He's not in any kind of danger, is he?", she states, looking both relieved and even more annoyed than before. "Look miss, you're not the first one trying to get her crush's personal info. Won't be the last one either. But you won't get it from me, so I advise you leave before I call security"
Wow, that woman is not playing around. I guess it's a good thing she's doing her job so well. But it's not helping me. I let out a sigh and turn around. There's no point in begging her, so I decide to go back home.
I spend the day worrying about James, calling him every ten minutes, then dialling 999 (is that the equivalent of 911 in the UK? I hope so haha) in fear he is actually dead or needs help, before hanging up without even talking to anyone. It's now past 8 o'clock at night and I am pacing around my living room debating whether or not to go to Brad's. If I can't know if James is alright, maybe I can find out if Brad is. After thinking about it for way too long, I grab my purse and leave my apartment, not before checking the window in case Joaquin had his guy spying on me. I didn't see anything, but the pitch black outside and the pouring rain didn't really help. I stop thinking about maybes and make my way to Brad's.
By the time I'm at his apartment, I am soaking wet and frozen to the bones, my hair and clothes dripping down onto the tiled floor, leaving a pool of water around me. l hesitate a second before knocking on his door, my heart racing in my chest. What if he's dead? Because of me. Only one way to find out. I take a deep breath and knock gently on the door. When it suddenly opens, I realize I was holding my breath, and when I see his face I feel like I can finally breathe again. He's not dead. A wave of relief hits me. Relief mixed with something else. Something I can't quite put a finger on. Gosh, I've never been so happy to see him. The few seconds it takes him to realize I'm standing at his door are enough for my eyes to see his bruised and swollen face. Oh God, what have they done to him. Before I can open my mouth to ask him, he grabs my arm and pulls me inside quite roughly after looking down both sides of his doorway and closes the door behind us once we're inside.
"What the fuck are you doing here", he asks, looking agitated.
I don't pay attention to what he is saying, too focused on his bruised face. His left eyebrow is cut, dried blood picking out of the cut, a blackeye shines on his swollen right eye and his split lip has turned purple. I suddenly feel sick at the idea that he was hurt because of me. And James's fate is probably not any better. Why is seeing him like this affecting me so much?
"Joy!", Brad repeats, trying to get my attention. "You shouldn't be here", he adds and I finally meet his eyes.
The initial shock on his face has been replaced with worry and... Fear?
"What happened to you?", he continues as he stretches his hand towards my face and softly touches the skin on my cheek, careful not to apply any pressure on it. I wince nonetheless, the pain still present despite the painkillers, and turn my head to the side to avoid any more contact with his hand. He quickly removes his hand, conscious of the pain it is afflicting me.
"Nothing", I answer, looking at the floor, not bearing to look at him in the eyes.
"Joaquin did that to you, didn't he?", he states through gritted teeth.
His tone tells me it isn't a question. I finally bring my eyes up to meet his again. Seeing him worry about me while he is in a way worse state than I makes me feel like an idiot. I brought that to us. No one else but me. How can he look so devastated seeing me like this when he got beaten up because of me?
"It doesn't matter", I answer, tears threatening to spill as I look at him.
This time it's my turn to bring my hand to his face.
"I'm so sorry. This is all my fault", I say and his eyebrows furrow.
Contrary to me, he doesn't flinch when my fingers make contact with his skin, as if he's not even in pain despite the evidence on his face. He grabs my hand from his cheek and brings it down, but doesn't let it go.
"What do you mean it's your fault?", he asks, and I raise an eyebrow. "You have nothin—", he starts to add but I cut him off.
"He asked me if I knew you", I admit, not able to control my tears anymore. "He didn't leave me a choice. Oh God—", I add, barely making any sense, before completely breaking down. "I'm s-sorry", I stammer, barely able to breathe through my sobs and unable to see anything around me anymore, my vision blurred by tears.
Within seconds I feel a strong pair of arms wrap around me, and hold me tight. Being in Brad's arms is getting too comfortable. How often have I been in this situation already? But today it doesn't matter. I stay there, my cheek against his chest, a wet patch growing larger by the second on his shirt where my tears end their course. I am thankful he doesn't move, or say anything. We simply stand in the middle of his entryway, wrapped in each other's arms as if time was a foreign notion. When my sobs finally calm down, he still doesn't move, and waits until I am the one pulling away before unwrapping his arms from me. My eyes are fixed on the wet patch on his shirt, my lower lip still shaking between my teeth.
"You're freezing", he says as he places his warm hand on my freezing jaw, careful not to put his fingers anywhere remotely close to my bruises and forces me to lift my head up and look at him.
His eyes are soft and caring, something I am not used to seeing on him. He is always so closed up and angry.
"Everything's gonna be alright, okay?", he says, looking at me with concern. "Here", he continues as he grabs my hand and pulls me towards the bathroom. "Take a hot shower, and then you'll tell me what happened, okay?"
I stay quiet and simply nod, a few tears still running down my cheeks. I feel beyond stupid, standing here, crying in front of him when all of this is my fault. He knew that would happen, he warned me about it, and yet here I am having a mental breakdown at his place after he was beaten up because of me.
"Hold on", he adds before disappearing out of the room and coming back with clothes in his hands. "Just leave your clothes on the floor, I'll throw them in the dryer", he says before turning around and leaving me alone in the room.