I spent around two weeks locked up, however all fourteen days felt like an eternity. The people in there did not spare me any mercy, from beatings to unwanted touches, I couldn’t say it was a nice trip.
Jax visited me a few times. Apparently, I provoked the speech, and I needed some 'time away to think about my actions'. Nobody brought up the false claims since people knew the truth.
I was never told the full story, and what I did get told, I never took in. Jax said it was to protect me, and Axel wanted to keep me safe. They kept me in the dark, and by doing so I was rejected even further.
People hated me for who I loved.
People hated me for being ‘different’.
Why did I live in a world I wasn’t accepted into?
The day I was released seemed to go by in a whirlwind, from people apologising to me to some people still being suspicious of me.
"The accusations didn't come from nowhere."
"There must be some truth to the claims."
The police let me go from their grasp, yet I seemed leave without my once endless freedom. The guilt, trauma and overall tiredness ate me alive, even at home I still didn't feel comfortable. My brother seemed to swarm me, as he could do no wrong, while my parents stayed clear of the broken mess I had resulted to.
My mother approached me on the day I came home, and she cradled my cheek.
“Where did my happy little girl go?” She cried.
I wasn’t sure. I think I was playing hide and seek, and I gave up, forgetting to tell her to come back, but I was struggling to find her. It was no longer a game.
I stayed silent and her hand recoiled from my face. She quickly got up, closed my bedroom door, and ran back downstairs.
School was starting up again in a few weeks, and I couldn't have dreaded it more. I knew Jax and my other friends had my back in private, but how many would show support in front of hundreds of people?
The little river just behind the kissing alley was always a good hiding spot, great to think and watch the world turn. Nobody seemed to need an escape anymore, so usually it was empty.
Until that night.
"Hey" I sat down beside him.
"I'm so sorry, I didn't know what to do" I smiled softly.
"It's okay, besides at least people know some truth now" He returned my smile.
The next thing I knew, Jax stood up, and took two long strides in my direction, abandoning his seat on the cool grass, his eyes glued to my own. I let my body melt into Jax’s, both of my arms wrapped tightly around his middle. My hands grabbed his sweatshirt, to pull him closer to me.
One of Jax’s arms wrapped around my lower back, reaching all the way around to my opposite hip. His other arm encased the back of my neck, his hand pushing into my hair. The sensation of Jax’s hands in my hair solidified my utter need for him.
My cheek was pressed into his chest, feeling the soft fabric swallow my features whole. I took a deep breath and discovered Jax smelt of sweet vanilla and honey.
Eventually, Jax’s own cheek laid softly on top of my head.
I had never felt safer.
He lifted his head to meet my eyes again. His pink lips curved into a smile as we made eye contact. I felt myself get lost in his dark eyes. They were soft, yet full of life. As his smile grew, his eyes turned into crescent moon shapes. I pulled myself out of my daze and smiled back at him.
"I am so proud of you" He spoke softly.
We stayed huddled up beside the riverbank for a while, watching the small birds catch their food and the sun getting smaller and smaller. By the time it had gone dark, I felt the dreadful feeling returning from earlier. The hurt. The guilt. The pain.
Push it back.
Don't ruin this.
"I should get going" Jax stood up after I nodded, waved goodbye and strolled home through the kissing alley.
That night, the air felt different. Lying on the grass, knotted hair, chapped lips.
I felt empty when he had left.
Everyone got happiness, but me, it seemed. When would it get better? The night’s sky looked at peace, the stars, and the moon.
I did love the moon.
When I would finally decide to leave, the moon is what I knew I would miss the most.
I remember growing up, I would always criticise teenagers and wonder why they let themselves destroy their bodies so much. How they would lose the best years of their lives by scarring themselves and damaging their organs.
Then I blew out my 13th candle.
I realised how wrong I had been. Being a teenager wasn’t fun, and I understood why they scarred their wrists and damaged their organs.
I don't recall when I must've fallen asleep, but I do remember the bright, burning sun waking me from my slumber. I remember having to return to reality, having to tread home, having to supress the feelings of guilt. From the journey home, I remember this one feeling. That one, prominent feeling.
The pain.
The hurt.
It was going to last forever.
ns 15.158.61.54da2
