And it all happened so fast.
One minute Heath was getting over the window sill because he wanted to talk to me and the next Dad was knocking on my door like a madman. What occurred afterwards is a blur. A film of events I keep pushing back because as soon as I remember, my heart hurts and I feel terrible for causing Heath all the trouble.
Because of me, he’s locked up in a cell right now.
I wonder if he’s okay.
That’s another thing that I’m forcing myself to not think about because I don’t trust myself to not run the seven blocks so I can get to him.
I hope he gets out. He has to.
I’ll do anything to get him out of there. Anything.
Scrubbing the floor with more force than needed, I try to not let my mind wander, but it does. I keep thinking about Heath and prepare myself for the moment he’ll break things off with me. I mean any sane person would do that. He doesn’t need to bother himself with me, no matter how much he likes me.
In fact, now that he is locked up in the cell, he must have already made up his mind to break up with me.
Which should be fine.
We weren’t in a relationship or anything, but there was—is—something between us that maybe isn’t worth the trouble.
At that thought I hear the cracking sound of my heart breaking into pieces.
I want him like I’ve never wanted anything.
I really, really, really like him.
I’m falling in love with him.
But now I have to abandon all these feelings because after what happened last night Heath wouldn’t want to do anything with me.
It takes me far long to clean the stains.
Putting away everything, I step into the bathroom and turn on the shower. When I stand naked in front of the mirror, it’s then I notice a small gash on my temple. The blood has dried and the wound has closed, but it appears fresh.
With my fingers I touch the gash and wince as it hurts. I clearly remember the worry on Heath’s face when he saw it even though he was the one who got stabbed. My pain bothered him more than his. Just like I forgot about all the aches in my body when I watched him get hurt.
Gathering every bit of courage from within me, I push myself away from the mirror and step under the shower. The warm water cascades down my back and soothes me.
I stand there for a long time before I start washing myself.
Thirty minutes later I return to my room dressed in a new pair of sweatpants and sweatshirt and sit on my bed.
Picking up my phone I text Heath.
Hope:I’m fine. I’ll see you at school.
I knowhe’ll worry about me. I hope this puts him at ease.
I set my phone aside so I don’t reach for it and spam Heath with messages and calls.
After what happened, I don’t know where we stand. I’d be okay with whatever he decides—even when it involves leaving me.
I hear the door open downstairs that makes me sit rigid on the bed. Chills race down my spine and my body turns cold. I don’t think I’m breathing with how scared I am.
I start counting to distract my head, but the sound of the footsteps climbing the stairs makes me stumble over numbers. There’s only my room on this floor. The attic is filled with dust,cobwebs and piles of used stuff that Mom doesn’t want to throw away because she’s sentimental to the core.
Wood creaks outside my room and I know he’s here. Dad is standing right outside my room.
