GUYS I AM SOOOOO SORRY!! PLS FORGIVE ME! WAIT DON'T FORGIVE ME! 😫😫 I really didn't keep my promise last chapter...😖 Here's the long awaited chapter!
Jaylin.
My life update right now is sunshine and rainbows.
Wrong. It got worst.
After I went to bed that night, I couldn't sleep. My back's sore, my eyes are heavy, and my body's numb. All because of him. The things he did to me that I remember and the things that he did that I don't remember.
I can't even look at myself. I can't even let anything touch my skin. I tried to take a shower but that didn't work because that just led to me drowning in the shower.
A shower. You can't drown in a shower...
I mean can you...? But either way, I have been on edge lately...
It's now Sunday. Saturday was, was just a bad Jaylin day. I just wanna go home.
A home is somewhere, where you feel safe and happy. I don't have a home. Never had one, to begin with.
I found my old crappy, half-cracked, iPhone 6 from when I was 14, I guess that's one good thing. I see the old foggy photos that I took at really horrible angles.
Don't even ask me about them. They're THAT horrible, I'm tellin' ya.
the dog faces, the pink heart filters, the peace sign, and the side tongue. UGH.
After I found a phone, I never left my room after. I just laid in bed, tapping my arm with my finger all day, being blanked out.
That's all I did. I did think a lot, that's one thing.
Didn't sleep. Watched the sunrise this morning.
I finally came out of my jail cell. Hair's greasy, TMI, never changed out of the clothes they had put on me.
I walk down the stairs, still not baring to look at myself in the mirror, let's just say that I now have to get a new mirror. My wall mirror is sort of...not shattered...?
It's shattered.
I might, might've not, thrown a book and my alarm clock at it...
Who reads books, am I right?
I head downstairs, feeling my head start throbbing. Seeing the clock, 6:32 AM, I then see a note on the kitchen island.
I not only see a note, I see a box that says my name on it.
I open the note and it reads:
"The constructing company wants me at a different location so I'll be gone for a few days. This package was by the door with your name on it."
No, 'love dad' or 'love you' or any written affection.
I glance at the package, seeing my name written with a black bold marker. Real sus, right there. I open it and see a flip phone in the middle of the box. Even more sus....
I open it and I only see one contact number.
'Kidnapper'
I go outside to the trash bin to throw it away but I pause myself as I open the trash bin. The words that flow through my head that make me stop were...for dad...for us...
I hold tight to the flip phone in my hand and I close the bin. I turn around and I see a black car parked in front of my driveway. An Audi...
I see his tall height that I remember from yesterday.
"Andrew?" I give him a slight smile. "What are you doing here?" I un-smile, seeing my breath out in the cool air.
He comes around his car, catching more of that alluring body of his. His perfect black fitted trousers with his sleeves rolled up, a few buttons loosened at the top, and some silver rings.
Is this what you call a sugar daddy? But younger?
Not gonna lie...He's kinda smokin'...
Nevermind. He really smokin'.
Unpredictable guy.
And me, still in the same clothes when we saw each other yesterday. Plus, the greasy hair. Ten out of ten, right there.
He slides his hands in his front pockets as he glances up and down at me. Before saying the most sweetest thing. Really! the sweetest thing.
"Your eye bags are about to drop to the floor." There you go. The sweetest.
"Ha. You think?" I walk back up the driveway. "Are you here to check on me? Because if you are I think you should hurry and-" my slipper falls off, making me stumble back.
His arm, swings under my back, catching me. Wrapping his arm around my waist.
"I think you should hurry and sleep, instead," he eyes me.
"Yeah. No," my face falls from a cheeky fake smile to a fallen expression. "I'll pass on that," he brings me back up and I invite him inside.
"So Mr. Suit guy, what are you doing here?" I set down, the flip phone, in the kitchen, washing my hands.
"Suit guy..." I hear him laugh to himself. "I came to check."
"Check?...Check on what?...Me? Really? " I turn my head to him as I dry my hands. "You really were coming here to check up on me."
"Yeah, Cregor," he leans back against the counter next to me.
Cregor?
I don't hate it...More like...I can't hate it. Calling me by my last name.
"How's your arm?" he rolls my sleeve up. "Wait, you didn't change the bandage?" I glance down, seeing a dark red brownish color.
"Why? Do I need to?" I ask.
"You know? There's no cure for stupidity right?" he says before grabbing the first aid kit.
I sit on the counter as he sets down the first aid kit.
"You know? People say that laughter is the best medicine, well thankfully, your face is curing the world," I say with a mock in my tone.
Mic. Drop. Bitch.
He raises an eyebrow. "Okay, fine." He places both hands on each side of me.
Slick move boy, but try again motherfucker.
You're making me want to give you a purple nurple through that white revealing shirt.
"Tell me, how many times I've helped you so far?"
Okay, now let me think. Okay,
1. He helped me at the gas station when I almost fell, where I first met him I guess.
Okay, fine on that.
2. I had to get ibuprofen and he helped me get it.
Nice of him, okay.
3. He drove me home after it started raining.
Okay...
4. He helped me at school when I needed ibuprofen.
He helped me more than I had thought...shit.
I forgot he helped me when I couldn't breathe and...he also helped me when I had a cut on my arm and...Shit.
That's a total of six of my problems he helped. Motherfucker.
I slowly bring both of my hands to my face. "6 times," I sigh into my hands.
"7"
He pulls my hand away from my face, flipping my hand, palms upwards and starts to carefully peel the bandage. "7? What do you mean? It's 6," I tell him.
"It's possible to think that I guess," he starts to clean the cut.
What is that supposed to mean?
Why's my head suddenly pounding?
"What do you mean, 'it's possible to think that'," I ask growing even more confused.
"Ice cream shop."
He smooths out the clean bandage. Ice cream shop?
I flat out my confused face.
"This brain of yours is really shitty," he pokes my forehead.
"Well your face is really shitty with tons of shit."
"Nice mouth of yours, really." The left corner side of his mouth, shows out a line smile.
He cleans up the counter. This motherfucker. He still fucking smiles. Ha. C'mon motherfucker. I can be a whole bitch too.
"Dad?" I lift my eyes over his shoulder, he turns his head to the door. Got you, motherfucker.
I punch his stomach, right in between his ribs. I push him over as he leans over the counter, groaning.
"Really. God wasted a good asshole when he put teeth in your mouth," I pat his back. More like slapping his back. "Don't get too comfortable with me, buddy."
"Thanks for the help though."
"Your word of thanks, is really shitty Cregor, you know that right?" he groans as he places his hand over his stomach.
Let's take that groan to the bedroom.
"Really? I thought it was the best kind of thanks," I give him a finger gun with a wink.
"Who the hell taught you that?" he stands up straighter. Did I punch him too hard? Well, my punches do come hard I've got to say.
Weakling Motherfucker.
"Me," I point at myself. "The bad bitch herself. Let me get your most wanted thing," he gives me a 'what now?' look.
"Motrin."
I run up the stairs, stepping over the shattered glass that was on the floor. I go through my backpack, finding the Motrin he was obsessed with.
"Cregor I don't need-"
Shit.
I slowly turn around and I see him, with his eyes pinned to the floor.
"Uhh...Andrew. This happened because I accidentally tried a handstand and knocked over my mirror, stupid right?" I laugh.
Believe it. Believe it.
Why is it getting so hot?
I reach over at a glass piece that's right in front of him. "Don't worry I-" he grabs my wrist. When I look up at him, I see a frown on his face but it quickly fades away.
"You can't just pick up the glass with your hands, dumbass," he says it so seriously but with ease like before.
I look up above Andrew's shoulder and I see the hallway out my bedroom door, get narrow and narrow as the hallway gets darker. My heart starts to beat faster. I see a large figure coming closer. As it builds closer, the large figure lifts its head and I see his face all over again. Him.
I start hyperventilating. Why can't I calm down?
"There's really no one that could ever cure your stu-"
I fall back on my ass, gasping for air. My chest.
I slowly start to back away, my eyes welling with tears. My mouth parts open as I see the dark figure that I remember, coming closer.
"Jaylin?"
My chest rises up and down, having my chest feel compressed as someone is stepping on me. I hear my wheeze.
Inhaler.
Where's my inhaler?
I wheeze again, as I place my hand on the table as I struggle my way up, trying to dig through my drawers. Opening each drawer, rummaging through every single trash.
It's not here.
Where is it?!
I start to panic even more. I should've expected this, last time felt too similar. I haven't had an asthma attack in over two years.
Is this a panic attack or just my normal asthma? I think its both. I don't think its both.
I knew I shouldn't have gone outside the moment I saw the cold air coming out of my mouth.
There's a spare. A spare inhaler.
I feel my throat start to close even more, feeling my chest get heavier. I need to hurry. I try to breathe through my nose, as I continue to wheeze, now with a whistling sound along with it.
I turn around and I see Andrew. Forgot that fucker's here. I trip over my foot as I take a step, falling into his arms.
"Hey! You okay?" he tries to bring me up. I have to hurry.
I slightly push him as I run towards my bathroom. Where's the spare inhaler? I brutally open the drawers and see a box of an inhaler. I struggle to open the box and I fall to the floor as I can't feel any of my breaths come to my airways, I try to gasp for air, trying to calm down, but I panic even more.
I press my back against the wall as I clench my fist and dig my nails into the palm of my hands.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
I'm fucked. I'm so fucked. I'm really fucked.
I put my hands over my mouth and nose as I try to simulate a bag as an idea came to mind. Fuck! My hands are too small. I suddenly see Andrew pop up beside me, moving in front of me.
"Hey, it's okay, it's okay. Just like last time. Breathe with me, one-"
I instantly spot his hand that was sitting on his leg, I reach for his hand and put it over my mouth. Large Hands. Who knew that they could be such a need in this situation.
He falls closer, in front of me as he's on one knee. His hand up against the wall above my head. Using both of my hands, pressing his hand over my mouth and nose, simulating a bag, finally feeling my airways un-tighten.
I only look at his eyes, trying to focus on those blue eyes. And he looks back at my eyes. Feeling the weight on my chest, get lifted as I can finally feel the air come through.
He turns around, grabbing the box with his left hand, keeping his right hand still over my mouth. He keeps glancing back at me and the box, opening the box, looking back at me. He pauses as he opens the box, I watch him look around the box and see his face scowl at the box.
He tosses it in the trash in the bathroom and moves closer to me, softening his look at me and softly telling me. "It's expired..."
Oh.
He brings his left hand to the side of my cheek as he softly holds it, then moves his thumb under my eye and wipes a fallen tear.
"Do you...have asthma?" he asks faintly.
I slowly breathe in, another wheeze sounds, and I nod, slightly squeezing his hand tightly.
"Okay," he says gently, moving hair behind my ear. He continues to have his eyes pinned on me.
A phone rings as it breaks the eye contact between us and he reaches his pocket and pulls out the culprit.
"What?" he asks irritatedly. "No, I won't. Tell him to be patient."
Did he have to meet someone?
"Lee, he's a fucking 40 year old man," he turns to me, then looks away. "Give him the god damn phone."
I feel tired.
"Hey, listen up."
I lift my eyes back up. Oh, this is going to be interesting.
"Let me tell you in the best way possible..." Andrew quickly sighs.
"Stop acting like fucking 3 year old, who can't stop waving his dick around and be a fucking grown man and reschedule the god damn meeting."
Woah.
Wait he can't stop waving his dick around? Damn. Someone needs to strangle that thing down. Jesus.
Who knew a high schooler can shut up a 40 year old man...
He throws the phone on the counter and I finally release his hand. "Does that man have a dick problem?" I croak out the words.
"Yeah, it seems he does." he sits up against the wall next to me. "How long have you had asthma?"
"Umm ever since I was nine...I nearly died that time but the last time I ever had an asthma attack was probably, hmm, two and half years ago," I turn my head and see him already looking at me, running out of breath a little.
"Sorry if I scared you, it's just...it's been a long time," I cough towards the end of my sentence.
"Where's your other inhaler?" he quickly gets up.
"Um in my...drawer," I hardly say.
I should probably stop talking. Yeah.
I want some Trollies...Jellies...
I see him come back, shaking the inhaler and bringing it to my mouth, feeling the relief surging in.
"Okay, hold it," he tells me what I would usually do. "One, two, three," I do it another three times and I can finally breathe. How does he know how to time my breaths?
"Do you have any jelly with you?" I blurt out.
"No. But I think you need to rest Cregor." he brings two of his fingers to the side of my neck.
Is he a doctor or something?
"Why are you calling me 'Cregor'?" I blurt out again.
"Because." The fuck?
I give him a disappointed look. Disappointed at that dic-
"I don't know. It just came like that."
"Your strange."
"That's nothing new to hear. C'mon let's go to your room," he grabs my arm but I pull back, he looks back at me confused and worried.
"My legs. They fell asleep...both of them." I drop my head as it feels weird.
He then comes to my eye level and moves my arms over his shoulder, wrapping it around his neck. He then picks me up, one hand on my lower back and one under my knees.
His shoulder is fucking wide. Broad Shoulder.
He sits me down on my bed. "I'll clean up the glass," I lean forward and grabbed his wrist.
"Why are you helping? Helping me?" I say bitterly. I can't help but find it so out of ordinary. "You do realize, we barely know each other. We're complete strangers other than classmates," I laugh a bit mockingly at the end.
His eyes look like they are studying for a bit before he speaks again. "You have a very strong wall with people."
"Yeah. I do," I drop my hand from his wrist.
I'm pretty chill with Rayne. She chill.
"Then we can just get to know each other," he starts cleaning up the mess. That I made.
"Don't you need to get going to your meeting? With that 40 year old man, who can't stop waving his dick around?"
He turns his head to me, pausing his cleaning. "Ha. Him? No," he continues to sweep up the glass. "He can continue to wave his 1-inch dick."
"He has a 1-inch dick?" I some reason whisper in shock.
"Yeah," Andrew nods in a whisper too. "But why are we whispering?" he whispers.
"I don't know." I say strongly as I drop the whisper.
He laughs small as he drops the glass in the garbage can, by my door. He then plops himself on my bed. Putting his arms behind his head.
I lay down beside him. "So."
"So," he says back.
"So. How are we going to get to know each other?" I lay on my side facing him.
"We're going to ask questions," he then lays on his side.
"Okay. I go first," he silently nods in agreement. "Why do you, an 18 year old, have a meeting with a 40 year old man, who has a small dick? Ah no, who has a 1-inch dick?" I get very curious.
He laughs at my straightforward question. "Well, first I'm 19, an early birthday. And because I have some family business with that man, like an uncle."
"Okay, strange but okay," I say.
"Okay, my turn. Why are you so obsessed with jellies? And especially with Trollies?"
Oh my god. How did he know?
(2954 words)
Published: April 2 4/2/22
Edited: August 8 (10:58) 8/8/22
Guys! Once again I'm sorry!!!😭 I wrote more than usual to try and make up for it! BUT IM SORRY!! 🤜🏼😁 <- ME.
Oh yeah!
✍🏼Any feedback?✍🏼
Anything I should try? or Anything I should stop?