I walk out of the combat room, the eyes of everyone in there following me on the way out. I wrap my arms around my stomach, hoping to shield myself from their penetrating gaze. I can feel the wetness of one of the bandages and I know that my wound is bleeding again. If I'm lucky, they might heal by the end of the year. I mentally roll my eyes at myself. Why do I always put myself in this position?
As I round the corner of the little building holding the combat rings, I see my father pacing up and down the wall, seemingly muttering to himself, but I'm too far away to be able to hear what he is saying. His eyes suddenly snap to mine, and I gulp at the rage that they hold, bolting me to the ground, not allowing me to move. My brain is yelling at me to run, but my feet are stuck, paralysed by just one look of my father.
"What do you think you are doing?!" My father shouts at me, storming up to me with loud banging footsteps that echo through my head.
"I-I don't know wha-what you're talking abo-about," I stutter, fear encasing me as if it were a bull charging at me and not my father. I think my father is scarier than a bull. I would definitely take the bull any day over my father.
"You know exactly what I'm talking about!" I cringe away from him as he shouts in my face, his eyes filling with fire the more he talks. "You thought you would just flaunt your body in front of everyone? Were you stupid enough to think that no one would notice?!"
"We're not allowed to wear shirts or hoodies in close combat sir, I had to take my hoodie off," I see his face falter for a second, knowing that I am right, but then his whole body seems to steam as his rage consumes him.
"Don't patronise me. You are nothing but a worthless child. You know nothing, nothing compared to me! If you think that I will be easy on you just because I have allowed you to continue in this childish game then you are wrong. You may not be allowed to come to our sessions anymore, but that doesn't mean that I won't find other ways to teach you your lessons," his voice is barely above a whisper as he comes to the end of his threat, it comes out as more of an animalistic growl, making me shiver in fear. I suddenly cry out in pain as I feel his fingers digging into one of the wounds on my stomach. He rips the bandage off, pulling a couple of the stitches with it. I can feel the blood trickling down my stomach as he continues to press his fingers into the cut.
"If I have another teacher call me because they are worried about your health, you will be removed from the school, understood?" I quickly nod my head, my eyes blurry with unshed tears as he pushes harder against my stomach. I let out a little whimper, trying to push his hands away from me, but it just fuels his anger, making him push his fingers harder.
"Clean yourself up, you look a mess," the feeling of his pulling his fingers out of my wound is worse than him pushing them in. He rips the few remaining stitches out with his harsh removal of his fingers. Another cry of pain leaves my mouth, awarding me a swift knee to the stomach. I double over in pain, winded by the force of his attack.
Through my clouded mind, I can hear his feet moving away from me, in the direction of the entrance of the field. I fall to my knees, trying to drag needed air into my dying lungs, holding onto my bleeding stomach, arms becoming drenched and sticky by the strangely large amount of blood covering my lower stomach. A lone tear rolls down my cheek, falling onto the floor in front of me, shattering into multiple more droplets. I wish I could disappear as easily as a tear does.
"Eva!" someone gasps from behind me, and I can hear running footsteps, getting louder and louder until I see a pair of feet in front of me. I feel two strong hands lifting my face up so I am looking into the face of Jayson Millard, but I can't see him through my blurry vision. My mind is occupied with the searing hot pain shooting up and down my stomach from both the now openly bleeding wound, and the kick I took.
"What happened?" His voice is soft as his hands pull mine away from my stomach, revealing the freshly bleeding wound. "You said they were healing,"
"They were," I whisper, answering his accusatory tone.
"Then what happened? Was it the fight?" Jayson's eyes flicker from my stomach to my eyes and back again, seemingly nervous at the fact that he may have caused my wounds to reopen. I stare at him, but I don't really see him, his voice almost muffled by the static that is racing through my ears. I can feel the tears falling down my face, revealing Jayson a little clearer to my eyes. His eyes mirror the worry on his face, his eyes frantically searching my face. The noises around us slowly start to come into focus, and I can hear the shouts and groans from the combat ring, voice upon voice flooding the little alley in between the combat hut and the toilet block.
"Eva? What happened?" Jay urges again, holding his hands over my wound, trying to stop the bleeding. I can feel the wetness dripping down my stomach, and I know that it's bleeding a worryingly amount now.
"He was angry that people saw the bandages," I mutter distractedly, watching as a few drops of blood hit the floor. Just like my tear, the single drop breaks into multiple little drops, splattering on the ground, tainting green grass under us with with a deep red. It almost looks as if someone had spilt paint over the grass, staining the reeds red.
"Your dad did this?!" Jay's voice pierces through my head making me wince. His calm, low voice being replaced by a growling, rage filled one. "I told you not to come out here, why don't you just listen to me?" I lift my head to look at him, his eyes dancing with the fires of fury.
"I think Orland told my father, he was mad that a teacher was questioning my welfare, he threatened to kick me out of the school," my voice is barely above a whisper, but I have control over my breathing now, my lungs no longer burning from lack of air.
"Come on, let's get you stitched up," Jay sighs, standing up, hooking his hands under my arms, gently pulling me up with him. I hiss at the sudden pain that jolts through my stomach at the movement.
"You need to stop letting him hurt you like this, its not right," I roll my eyes at his scolding tone, but let him lead me over to the toilet block. There are three rows of girls toilets, three rows of boys toilets and five shower rooms. Jayson pulls open a door to one of the shower rooms and guides me in. He places his warm hands on my shoulders, now standing behind me as he shuts and locks the door to the showers. A sudden flash of fear shoots through my body, making me halt my movement into the room. Being alone in a locked room with Jayson Millard usually ends in me being beaten black and blue.
"Sit down, there's a first aid kit in the cabinet, " Jay murmurs to himself more than me. I glance over at the white plastic chair that is placed in the corner of the room, opposite to the shower. To the right of the door stands a tall white cabinet next to a white ceramic sink. The cabinet holds many different sized towels, first aid kits, a stitching kit, and some even hold splints in serious cases. The rooms always have a chair, so the injured are able to sit as they fix themselves up. It was brought into action during my first year at Hallowell. I remember them fitting the shower rooms in, when the space that now holds the block was occupied by outdoor combat rings.
"Why do you let him does this, Eva?" Jay says a little muffled as his head is still in the cabinet, trying to find all of the equipment that he needs. I sigh as I sit down in the chair, having to lean back a little as not put more pressure on the leaking cut. I notice that my shorts are now soaked in my blood, the bottom half of my torso covered in the sticky red substance pulsing out of my stomach. He really has done a number on me.
"You wouldn't understand," I mutter quietly, hoping that he will leave it at that, hoping that he will realise that I don't want to talk about it anymore. I grab one of the towels that Jay flings at me from the cabinet. I dab at the wound, wincing at how tender it is. I see Jay pull out the first aid kit, as well as the stitching kit. If the touch of a towel hurts, then a needle is going to fucking kill.
"Try me," Jayson challenges as he kneels down in front of me, grabbing some antiseptic wipes from the first aid kit. I brace myself for the contact of the stinging wipe, but nothing my mind could do to prepare myself helps when the wipe makes contact with my open skin. I hiss and flinch away from the offending material, glaring down at Jay as he looks up at me with sad eyes.
"I need to clean it, Eva, otherwise it will get infected. Talk to me, try to distract your mind," I close my eyes, my body jumping as the wipe makes contact with my stomach again. I try to move away from him, but his hand reaches out for my waist, keeping me still as his other hand gets to work at cleaning my wound.
"I don't know what to talk about!" I hiss through my teeth as he relentlessly cleans my stomach.
"What about your mum? Tell me about her," Jay's voice is steady as he concentrates on his task. He wants to know about my mother? Why would he want to know about that? The only person in the school who knows about my mother is Charlie, and that's only because he walked in on me crying into her cardigan one night.
"My mother was beautiful," I start, my body unconsciously relaxing as memories of my mother flash in front of my closed eyes. I can feel my lips lift up as my mother's smiling face beams at me. Oh how I wish I could be with her.
"Go on," I feel Jayson's hands leave my stomach, and I know that he is getting the stitching kit ready. I can feel my hands shaking with anticipation on my thighs, my palms beginning to sweat at the thought of him having to stick a needle through my already sensitive skin. He's done it before though, and very well, I remind myself, feeling the other bandages rubs against my skin.
"People used to tell me that I was like a mini her, we had the same hair, the same eyes, the same nose. She was always smiling, I can still remember her laughing with me as she chased me around the garden," My eyes begin to brim with tears as I open them, staring at the white celling of the shower room.
"She was my idol, my superhero. She was a nurse so I thought of her as a superhero, saving everyone's lives daily, but, she died when I was ten," a single tear runs down my cheek as the painful memory of that night floods my mind. I feel Jayson shift and I look down at him, my body stiffening as the sight of the stitching needle in his hands. He has a pair of gloves on now, his eyes burning with determination and worry, but there's something else in his face that I can't quite make out. For some reason, it calms my shaking hands.
"Keep talking, you're doing so well," he encourages me, a soft smile gracing his lips as he turns his attention back down to my stomach, a frown taking its place as he concentrates on the matter at hand.
"I-I was asked to a sleepover by a group of girls at my school. They were the most popular girls in my class, so I jumped at the opportunity to be involved in their party, but-FUCK!" I cry out in pain as the needle digs into my flesh, moving through it with painful ease. I try to move away from the needle, but Jay clamps his free hand onto my thigh, stopping my legs from kicking out.
"You have to stay still otherwise I won't be able to close your wound," his tone isn't scolding like I expected it to be. He's calm and gentle, his thumb slowly rubbing my thigh in a calming manner. I close my eyes, gritting my teeth as he digs the needle back through my flesh again, but in the other direction, and I can feel the tread following after.
"What happened at the sleepover?" he asks softly, his hand leaving my thigh to help him with his task, but his thumb continues to rub my skin soothingly, but on my stomach now instead of my thigh.
"Th-the girls we-were mean," I stammer, my body shaking with the shock of pain. I try to steady my breathing, taking in a couple of deeps breath before trying to talk again.
"The girls were mean, they only asked me to the sleepover so that they could make fun of me. I was different to them because I was a little muscular and my arms were covered in bruises. They said I looked like a boy, that I was ugly and gross. I ran to the girls mum, asking her if I could call my mum to come and get me. It was late, but I knew my mum would be awake.
"My father tried to stop her from coming to get me, telling her that I needed to learn to fend for myself, but, of course, my mother came to get me. When she was ten minutes away from the house, a drunk driver drove into her," I tears are freely falling down my cheeks now, my words coming out in sobs from both the pain of the memory and the pain of what Jayson is doing to me. His thumb still continues to stoke the skin of my stomach and he whisper encouraging words to me, telling me that I am doing so good and that he is almost finished.
"The police called my father, and he had to come and get me. He was furious, and that was the first time that my father hit me. When we got to the hospital, the doctors told us that she didn't make the drive there. My father beat me unconscious in the hospital car park after he spoke to the police. It was the first real beating he ever gave me, and it only got worse after that," I am full on sobbing now, the pain from my stomaching is nothing in comparison to the pain in my heart, at the memories of my mother.
"It's my fault she's dead," I gasp out through my sobs as I feel Jayson placing a bandage over the now stitched wound. I'm suddenly being pulled to the floor, into the lap of Jayson. He wraps his hands around my waist, pulling me into him as I cry into his shoulder
"It's not your fault, Eva, its the guy's fault for deciding to drink drive. You can't blame yourself for something that you couldn't control," his words are whispered softly into me ear as he strokes my hair, not even a little bit concerned at the fact that he is probably now covered in my blood.
We sit there for countless minutes, him holding me to his chest and I cy into his shoulder. I'm sure if anyone walked in they would faint at the sight of the two of us together like this. In the back of my mind, I realise that this is not right. That I shouldn't let my guard down so easily with him, that he probably has an ulterior motive for his actions,. I push the thoughts aside, relishing in the feeling of being held and taken care of. For once in my life, there is someone who I don't have to hide from, who I don't have to hide my injuries and scars from - although I'm pretty sure he hasn't seen any of the scars yet.
Is it wrong to feel comforted by the arms of my enemy? Probably. But in this precise moment, it is the one thing that I need, to be held and told that everything is okay.
"You're one strong girl, Eva," I sniffle, my tears slowly stopping. I pull away from Jayson's shoulder, wiping my eyes and nose with the back of my hand. I can't find the strength to look him in the eyes, lowering my gaze to his chest, noticing a few freckles dotted about on his flawless skin. I cringe as I noticed some of my blood smeared on his stomach.
"I'm sorry," I mutter shyly.
"For what?" His voice is laced with confusion.
"For getting blood on you," I reply in a whisper, and I feel Jayson chuckle, the sound vibrating through his chest and into mine. He lifts a hand, hooking his finger under my chin, forcing me to look at him. His eyes shine with amusement, but there is something else flickering behind his eyes.
"That is nothing for you to be sorry for, I'm just glad I was able to fix you up," his hand softly traces my cheek, moving a piece of hair that has escaped my pony tail behind my ear, his large hand cupping my face. I close my eyes and lean into his touch.
"Do you really think I'm a monster?"