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Isaac and I part ways to head to our lockers once we reach the main hallway. Chatter echoes off the school walls as people socialize before getting to first period. It's a day where I don't have a scowl on my face. I don't feel like school is a chore. As crazy as it seems, a smile hides on my face as I make my way to my locker.
I twist the combination on my lock, pulling the door open, shuffling my feet aside as some poor kid tries to get to his bottom locker. I quietly hum the tune to Dear No One by Tori Kelly as I set my junk inside and pull out the books I need for math.
"Wow, the bitch can smile! Who knew?" A deep voice sounds from behind me. I freeze in my spot, my hand clasped around my notebook.
Don't let them ruin your day. Don't let them ruin your day. Don't.
"How's your dad? Still drunk as fuck? Still beating you to shit? It'd be a shame if he weren't."
I slam my locker and whip around, facing Connor, his bulky figure hovering over mine. He sneers, clearly knowing the impact his words have on me. I shuffle away, trying to remove myself from his eye line, but he grabs my arm, tugging me backwards and pinning me against the wall.
"This is what he does, right?" He smirks, leaning in close to my face. I keep my body stiff, looking him coldly in the eyes. He slides his fingers up one of the sleeves of my shirt and tightly pinches one of my bruises, digging his nails into the tender patch of skin.
I bite my tongue, squeezing my eyes shut as the soreness spreads throughout my arm. He found a bad bruise, one that was inflicted by my drunk father and a couple beer bottles thrown at me.
"Or does he do this?" He tilts his head as his hand pulls out of my sleeve and his fingers slowly make their way to my chest, circling my left breast. My body shudders and I keep my eyes closed, looking to the side, wishing desperately for this to stop. "Don't pretend you don't enjoy it, you can be honest with me, Grace. I know you're a slut." His fingers press a little harder. "Isn't this what he does? Tell me."
"N-no-" I stutter out. My father's a bad person, but he is still my father, and he is already entertained by his street walkers to where I don't even cross his mind, thank god.
"Don't lie." Connor presses on. One tear rolls down my cheek. God dammit Grace, why'd you have to start crying. I feel him swipe it away with his finger, it trailing back down to where it was previously at. "I remember what you were like when I did this to you. Don't you forget that you're a whore." I sense him leaning in closer to me, whispering in my ear. "A whore that should just go slit her wrists. Or better yet, her throat."
And then he lets go, and walks away, confidence in his stride, as if nothing just happened. I open my eyes and see people giving me the side eye, probably wondering what the hell just happened. I fight back my tears as I collect my things and walk swiftly to the bathroom as first period bell rings. I don't even think about being late for class as I plant myself inside the furthest stall, letting my stuff fall to the ground. I lower the toilet seat and sit down, pulling my legs to my chest just like I did when my father was beating on my bathroom door. I let silent tears slide down my cheeks and pooling on my knees, thankful I have no makeup on for it to be leaving black streaks on my face.
Connor knew exactly how to push my buttons. He knew my past, and he knew what triggered me. He doesn't know everything, but he sure knows a hell of a lot. And although he wasn't mimicking my father's actions after starting to touch me, he was mimicking a certain someone. And he got the reaction out of me he wanted.
So much for being strong, Grace.
I wipe my eyes on my sweatshirt before standing up and placing my things back into my bag and unlocking the door. Thankfully, everyone is already in their first period class, so I am alone in the bathroom. No one heard my tears.
I check myself in the mirror, groaning at my swollen eyes and blotchy, red face. It's evident that I've had an ugly sob session, and I try fixing myself with a cold paper towel, but nothing helps. I pull my hair out of a bun so at least I don't look like complete trash. My hair falls in loose waves around my cheeks, seeming to be the only thing in tact about me. I readjust my bag on my shoulder before heading out of the bathroom, rubbing my eyes again, turning the corner and running smack into someone.
And that someone just happens to be Isaac.
"Woah, woah," He says, steadying himself and then looking at me, finally registering who he just collided with. "Guess we can't still get our feet in the right place, huh?" He chuckles, referring to the afternoon at the diner. "Mr. Johnson sent me looking for you, since you didn't come to class."
When I don't respond, his smile falls, and I see him noticing my appearance. "Have you been crying?"
I roll my eyes and brush past him. He jumps back in front of me. "Sorry, sorry. I didn't mean it like that," He gives me a genuinely worried look. "What's wrong?" He takes a step towards me, and I want to collapse into him, spilling out everything I've been bottling up for a year.
You're crazy. You don't know him like that.
Instead, I clear my throat. "Nothing's wrong." Lie. "I'm fine." Lie. "Allergies." Someone call Nancy Drew.
He opens his mouth to argue, but then closes it, shaking his head slightly and biting his lip. He runs a hand through his messed up hair. "Okay, Grace Baker. But I do have one question, do you want to go back to class?" He raises an eyebrow.
I shake my head. "Not really."
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The teacher drags on and on and on.
The clock ticks and ticks and ticks.
A another piece of paper flies and hits my head.
I ignore it, for the fifth time, and keep my eyes forward on Ms. Williams' lecture about chemistry. But one more ball of paper pelts my head and I finally turn to face Isaac, sitting a few seats away from me.
"Can you not?" I snap in a hushed tone.
"Are you going to keep ignoring me?" He asks. "Open the notes."
I grumble and roll my eyes, bending to the ground to scoop up the papers he's been throwing at me for the past twenty minutes. I un-crumble one of them and read the scribbled words on it.
I'm not a photographer, but I can picture you and me together.
I look up at him with an unamused expression. He shrugs his shoulders and motions for me to read another.
If you were a vegetable you'd be a cute-cumber.
I pick up the third one.
Are you a magician? Because every time I look at you, everyone else disappears.
"How many of these did you write?" I whisper.
"Two more."
I read the last ones.
Are you a camera? Because every time I look at you, I smile.
I don't have a library card, but do you mind if I check you out?
I stifle a laugh at the last one, and look over my shoulder back at Isaac, who is looking out the window. I scribble on the back of the note, Is that all you've got?
I chuck it and it hits his arm. He looks over and picks it up, unwrapping it and reading what it says. He writes down something before throwing it back at me.
Yeah, that's all I could think of. It cheered you up, didn't it?
I fold it and stick it in my jacket pocket. Isaac has a dorky grin on his face and I can't help but smile. Leave it to him to make a shitty day not-so-shitty.
"Charming." I mouth.
"I know." He says back, before returning back to his school work.
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Hi!! Hope you enjoyed this chapter. The beginning gives a little insight into what Grace has been putting up with for over a year. What do you think of Connor? Why does he know so much about Grace? And what do you think of Isaac's pick-up lines. XD I didn't come up with them myself, I got them off of a website haha. But still, he's so cute. See you in the next chapter!
-Acreativeblur