Hi everyone - I hope you all are enjoying your Monday night. Anyone watching the College Football National Championship? If so, who do you think is going to win? I'm an ACC girl, so naturally I'm disturbed by it being two SEC teams. Buuuuuut everyone hates Bama (including me), so go Dawgs? I hope I didn't just curse Georgia. If so - I'm sorry in advance! Anyway - hope you all enjoy chapter 10. I'll catch you all on the flip side (:
girl
I wake with a start, disoriented. Shifting in my sheets, I realize, belatedly, that my clothes are damp. Understanding filters slowly through my sleep-addled brain. Cursing, I twist out of bed and begin tearing off the soiled sheets.
My mind whirrs. Many emotions crash down on me. Confusion. Shame. Sadness. Disbelief. I haven't wet the bed since… I can't remember. It's been a while. Bunching the sheets up in a ball, I drop them by my door and begin shucking off my pajamas.
Naked and shivering, I toss my soiled clothes on top of the sour-smelling bundle and step into my bathroom. My fingers shake as I crank my shower to life, turning the knob all the way to the right. Wiping the sleep and shame and sadness from my face, I step into the scalding spray.
My body takes only a few seconds to get over the initial shock from the heat. The white-hot stream curls around my limbs, unknotting my aching, tense muscles. Gasping, I turn my face into the punishing spray. Steam surrounds me as I slide to the floor. Knees to my chest, I curl in on myself.
The world presses in around me as I slowly count backwards from 100. It takes longer than usual, and I have to restart a few times, but I finally slow my breaths enough to stand. Rising to my feet, I twist the shower knob sharply to the left and begin my shower routine.
Five minutes later, I emerge. Bright red and outwardly clean, I dress quickly and make my way downstairs. The house is silent, save for the sound of the TV blaring from Riley's room. My feet carry me down the stairs, finding a destination once my nose picks up the scent of freshly brewed coffee. My beeline, however, comes to a screeching halt when I spy the sole occupant of the kitchen.
I think about ducking out, going unnoticed, but the squeak I involuntarily emit blows my cover. Phil immediately glances up from the newspaper he has spread out on the kitchen island.
"Good morning, Isabella."
"Morning." My response is quick, polite as I force my feet to finish their journey. Hands that are not mine pull a mug from the cupboard. They're steady as they pour a steaming cup of coffee. Even steadier as they guide that cup to my lips. Liquid fire rips its way down my throat.
"Ms. Cope has strict orders to keep you on the premises." Phil murmurs, gazing at me coolly. "You will not be attending that party, Isabella."
"Understood." My voice is dead, emotionless. 'There is no party,' I want to tell him. 'I made it all up, you psychopath.' I don't. What's the point? The damage is already done.
"You will be present for dinner later tonight." He tells me, arms folding across his chest.
I sharply tear my eyes away, lest I notice how his fitted button down stretches across the firm muscles of his chest. I can't. I won't. I hate him. "Sure."
"You will be in a better mood by then." Phil sighs, brushing by me as he begins to gather his briefcase and jacket. "I need to jet. The boys are out back for their baseball lesson. You will be on your best behavior while our guest is here." Another statement, demand.
"Sure."
Phil fixes me with a penetrating stare, eyes momentarily dropping to survey my outfit. "Put on some clothes." Is his parting comment before he's stepping outside to bid his golden children farewell.
Scowling, I am torn in two. One side wants to fly under the radar, submit. I'm already on Phil's shit list, so it's the sensible thing to do. The other side screams for rebellion. Rage. Rage. Rage. Destroy it all. Burn it to the ground.
I swallow it down.
My feet carry me upstairs, to my room. It should feel like a sanctuary, but it doesn't. Instead, I feel raw, exposed standing beside my stripped bed. The wall-to-wall windows framed by sheer drapery don't help.
The sound of Phil's voice filters up through the windows from below. He sounds happy, pleasant. My feet can't carry me to the window fast enough, tripping over nothing in my haste. I feel sick as I press my forehead against the cool glass to observe the interaction below.
Phil is every bit smiling father. The twins eat it up, just like you'd expect six-year-olds with an absentee father to act. I want to walk away, to look away, to forget, to be anywhere but here. I don't do that, though. It's like I can't look away. I'm hypnotized by the falsity, the show of it all. Phil is really laying it on thick for this Edward guy.
Edward – my eyes momentarily bounce to him. Tall, brunette, athletic build. He keeps his head down as he toes the dirt with a well-worn sneaker. His body language screams discomfort, which seems strange in this situation as Phil's doting father act is undefeated.
The discomfort vanishes the moment Phil ducks inside. Edward's shoulders raise, as does his head, and it's like his eyes are immediately drawn up to me. Our eyes lock and I'm drowning in green, green, green.
Brow furrowing and lips pursing in a soft, timid smile, Edward palms the back of his neck before lifting his hand in a shy wave. Stomach churning, the realization that this is the most genuine, friendly interaction I've had with a male in a very, very long time dawns on me.
Immediately, I jerk myself away from the window as if I've been burnt. Gasping, I wrap my arms around my middle and stagger out of sight – into the closet. My legs give out as an unfamiliar feeling twists in my gut. Something wicked… something closer to pain than pleasure. I don't like it, I decide.
And I definitely don't like Edward.
Boyyyy, that was a rough one. What do you guys think? Any theories about what's going on here? Whatever it is, it's definitely bad.
As always, thanks to everyone that has rec'd, reviewed, favorited, and followed this little lovechild of a story of mine. I really appreciate all of the love. It definitely makes putting myself and my work out there worthwhile. At this point, school has started back up and I'm super busy between teaching, grad classes, and working on my gifted endorsement so updates will be reduced from five to at least twice a week. Writing is something that I really enjoy, so I'd rather not add it to the long ass list of things that stress me out. (: That being said, expect the next update to roll out on Thursday.
Again, thank you guys so much for the support. I really appreciate it and I hope you all can stick with me while I bob-and-weave my way through the rest of the school year. Excuse me while I wipe the digital sweat off my brow! Whew!
xo j