Chapter 2
~ Isabella's POV
Jack walked me home, the two of us moving slowly as if we were both trying to make the moment last a little longer. I could still feel the warmth of his hand on mine from when he'd helped me up by the river, and a part of me didn't want to let go of that feeling.
When we reached my doorstep, he stopped and turned to face me. For a moment, I thought he might finally say something more about how he felt. Instead, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small tube of ointment and a plaster.
"Here," he said softly, handing them to me. "For your wound. Make sure you clean it and put this on. It'll help it heal faster."
I took the ointment and plaster from him, my fingers brushing against his. A small spark of hope flickered inside me. Maybe he did care about me more than he let on. Maybe he was just being careful because he promised his father. "Thank you, Jack," I said, trying to hide the smile that was tugging at my lips. "That's thoughtful of you."
He nodded, giving me that gentle smile of his. "Just take care of yourself, Bella," he said. "You're stronger than you think, you know."
I didn't want him to go. Not yet. I wanted to ask him more, to find out what was going on in his head. But just as I opened my mouth to say something, I saw someone approaching us. It was Kayla, one of the girls who had been with the group that bullied me earlier. Her face was twisted in anger as she stormed over.
"What are you doing with Jack?" Kayla spat, her eyes blazing as she glared at me. I could see the fury in her eyes, and my heart began to race. I stepped back instinctively, clutching the ointment and plaster tightly in my hand.
Before I could say anything, Jack stepped forward, his expression suddenly cold and distant. "I was just passing by," he said, his voice firm. "Bella was hurt, and I was just making sure she got home safely because I have to make sure everyone is safe even if they are not one of us. That's all."
I felt a sting in my chest at his words, the way he distanced himself from me so easily. He didn't even look at me as he spoke, his eyes fixed on Kayla instead.
Kayla looked me up and down with disgust. "I knew it," she sneered. "There's no way you would stoop so low to be friends with a human like you, Bella. You don't belong here. You never did."
Her words cut deep, and I felt my face flush with shame and anger. I wanted to speak up, to defend myself, but the words wouldn't come. I just stood there, feeling small and humiliated.
Jack turned to me, his expression blank. "Go inside, Bella," he said quietly. "It's best if you just go."
I looked up at him, searching his face for any sign that he didn't mean what he was saying, but all I saw was that same unreadable look. My heart sank, and I felt tears sting the corners of my eyes.
Kayla smirked, clearly pleased with herself. "Come on, Jack," she said, linking her arm with his. "Let's go. We have better things to do than waste time with her."
I watched as they walked away, Kayla holding onto Jack like she owned him. He didn't even glance back at me. I stood there, clutching the ointment and plaster in my hand, feeling a mix of hurt and confusion.
I was lost in my thoughts, replaying everything that had happened by the river and at my doorstep. Jack's actions kept swirling around in my mind, each moment like a confusing puzzle piece that didn't quite fit. Did he care, or was he just being nice because he felt sorry for me? The way he distanced himself in front of Kayla hurt more than I wanted to admit, and I couldn't stop thinking about it.
Suddenly, a loud, harsh voice jolted me back to reality.
"Hey, you useless girl! Are you just going to stand there all night?"
I froze, my heart leaping into my throat. It was my adoptive mother, shouting from the kitchen. Her voice was sharp and filled with irritation. She didn't even bother using my real name; she never did. To her, I was always a "useless girl," "burden," or "freeloader." It was like she took pleasure in reminding me that I wasn't part of this family, that I didn't belong.
"Get in here now!" she yelled again, her voice echoing through the small house. "You think you can just wander around doing nothing all day? You've got chores to do!"
My hands started to tremble, and I felt a familiar fear rising in my chest. I never knew what to expect from her. Some days she would just yell, throwing insults my way, but on other days, she'd get meaner, her anger turning into something worse. My skin still stung from the last time she decided to teach me a "lesson" for not finishing my chores fast enough.
I took a deep breath and quickly wiped my eyes, trying to compose myself. "Coming!" I called out, trying to keep my voice steady even though I was scared of what might happen next. My legs felt heavy as I made my way toward the kitchen, each step filling me with dread.
When I reached the kitchen, she was standing there with her arms crossed, tapping her foot impatiently. Her glare was cold, and her lips were pressed into a thin line. I could see a pile of dirty dishes in the sink and laundry scattered across the floor.
"What took you so long?" she snapped. "What were you doing, daydreaming about some boy? Useless, that's what you are. Can't even do a simple job right."
"I'm sorry," I mumbled, keeping my head down. I knew better than to talk back. The last thing I wanted was to make her angrier. I quickly moved to the sink and started washing the dishes, my hands shaking as I tried to focus on the task in front of me.
She didn't let up, though. She never did. "Look at you, all pathetic and slow," she continued, her voice dripping with contempt. "You think anyone's going to care about you? Think you're special? You're nothing but a burden. I don't know why I even bothered taking you in."
Her words cut deep, but I was used to it by now. I had heard them so many times that they almost felt like background noise. Almost. It still hurt, but I had learned to push it down, to focus on getting through the day.
I kept my eyes on the dishes, trying to block out her voice, but it was hard. I could feel her watching me, waiting for me to mess up, waiting for any excuse to lash out again. I knew I had to be careful, to keep my head down and do everything right. But even then, it sometimes wasn't enough. And tonight, I could feel that familiar tension in the air, that uneasy feeling that made my skin prickle with anxiety.
As I scrubbed the dishes, trying to block out my adoptive mother's words, I heard the heavy footsteps of my adoptive father approaching from the hallway. My heart sank even deeper. If my adoptive mother had been harsh with her words, he would have been ten times worse. He didn't just yell; he found ways to make every mistake feel like a crime.
He walked into the kitchen, his face twisted in an angry scowl. "What the hell is this?" he barked, pointing to the pile of clothes in the corner. "You didn't wash my clothes? I told you this morning that they better be done by the time I got back!"
"I—I'm sorry," I stammered, my hands shaking as I turned to face him. "I—I didn't get to them yet. I was—"
"You were what?" he shouted, stepping closer, his eyes narrowing. "Too busy being lazy, huh? You think you can just do whatever you want in this house?"
"N-no, sir," I whispered, my voice trembling. "I was just—"
Before I could finish, my hand slipped, and one of the plates I was washing fell from my grasp. It hit the floor with a loud crash, shattering into pieces. The sound seemed to echo in the small kitchen, louder than anything I'd ever heard. I froze, my eyes wide with fear, my breath catching in my throat.
The room went silent for a moment, and then I heard my adoptive mother's sharp intake of breath, followed by a low, angry growl from my adoptive father.