And now here I am, Sunday morning, going stir-crazy, ready to get the heck out of here.
I take a long shower, standing under the water for way longer than I should, before getting ready for the day. Since the weather is warm here, I leave my hair to air dry on its own. I throw on a white spaghetti-strapped crop-top and faded jeans, but when I scan my arms, I decide on layering it with a lightweight cardigan. The bruising has faded, but not enough to make me comfortable in exposing myself yet.
I check my phone for any new notifications and slide it into my pocket. Griffin hasn’t said a word to me since he hung up on me, and for once, I’m not going to give him the satisfaction of following up. It’s all a game to him, and right now, what he wants is for me to grovel. I’m done playing by his rules.
I have been done for quite some time.
Our relationship was pretty much over six months ago, but we’ve both been going through the motions. I caught him cheating on me with a girl from his work. I walked in to surprise him, and boy was it a shock to us all. The two of them were making out in the break room, hot and heavy. His hand was down the front of her pants and hers was tangled in his hair. Who knows how far they would have taken it if I hadn’t thrown a wrench into their plan.
Completely mortified and shocked, I ran out of there and went straight home.
To my further surprise, Griffin left, too, and followed me to my house. He jumped out of his car and dropped to his knees, pleading with me to forgive him.
In hindsight, I have no fucking clue what made me believe him. Maybe it was the desire to get him off my lawn so the neighbors would stop staring, or maybe it was hoping that the good Griff would come back. Or that, perhaps there was a logical explanation for why his lips were on someone else’s.
I was a fool though, because the Griffin I saw then was the Griffin that exists every single day. The little blips of good Griff that come and go are the hooks he sinks in to keep me around. They’re fake, not real, just a tool he uses. And like magic, they work every single time.
Things were different after that, though. I could feel myself slipping further from his grasp. Growing a little colder toward him. I was building a tolerance to his bullshit. Don’t get me wrong, I continued to fall for his tricks, but each time the cycle of good to bad finished, I grew more aware of what was happening.
Not only had he deceived me, but he also had everyone else fooled, too. Which continued to complicate the situation that much more.
Even my dad was under Griffin’s spell. Despite my dad’s selfless and caring heart, I managed to hide the things Griffin did to me from him. I didn’t want to burden him with my teenage problems; he was handling enough on his own.
I open the front door and turn back to take a last look for anything I forgot. I have my keys, phone, some cash, and my I.D. in my pocket. I don’t plan on going far, but the basics are covered if needed.
Tomorrow is the unofficial first day of school. Campus will be open, and teachers will be coming and going from their rooms, but no actual classes will be in session. Freshmen are supposed to use this time to get acquainted with where everything is and prepare for Tuesday. And according to the mailer they sent out, the university uses this day to set up booths for extra-curriculars, too.
Considering I haven’t even seen the school in person yet, I’m going to use my time now to walk the few blocks and make sure I have it mapped out correctly. I’d rather not have any major surprises tomorrow.
Heading down the stairs and into the courtyard, I catch sight of something I haven’t seen before in this building.
A kid.
A boy with brown shaggy hair, leaning on his elbow, his face buried in a book. He’s sitting at the table I was at last night, lost in whatever he’s reading.
I guess I’m not the only one who uses the space after all.
I’m opening the gate to leave when I’m startled by a loud bellow from above.
“Billy, get your ass up here!” the man yells down at the young boy.
Billy slams his book shut and hustles upstairs.
I try not to be obvious as I watch the two of them go inside and shut the door.
The man raises his voice again, but it’s too muffled for me to hear.
I leave the building and attempt to shake the icky feeling that interaction just gave me. It could have been completely harmless, but it seemed much deeper than surface-level harsh parenting.
My phone vibrates in my back pocket, and I nearly jump out of my own skin.
I pull it out to see Rosie’s face across the screen. Gratefully, I accept the FaceTime call.
“Hey, you!” She beams. Her dirty blonde hair is in her usual beachy waves. Her backdrop tells me that she’s sitting on her bed at her house.
"Hi, Rose." I hold the phone in close proximity to my body to avoid being one of those obnoxious public phone users. There aren't too many people around, but I still want to be considerate.
“Where are you? It’s all muffled.”