pause.
Where did you get my number from?
I never actually gave it to you…
Sexy Boy Scout
don’t worry about it, see you at the game :)
Leaving Blake on read, I close my phone, lie back down on the bed, and stare at the ceiling. I thought that leaving New York would bring me a sense of peace but the demons of my past followed me into heaven. I roll over in the bed and pull the covers over my head, surrounding myself in darkness and allow myself to finally let go.
I cry my heart out, letting the world crash down over me and succumb to the dark abyss of my mind. I was never really a big crier growing up, I’d usually just laugh off my problems, but right now, I can’t. I cry so much that my mouth hurts from holding in my sobs. Here, at Summerfield, I have morepeople around me than ever, but why do I feel so lonely? The tears soon stop and hitched shallow breathing replaces it.
I’ve been under the covers for so long in my own world that I don’t notice when the door opens or when two other bodies surround me in the bed. I’m so stuck in the endless despair of my own darkness that I don’t notice the light around me until I’m being yanked out of my own self-loathing and arms wrap around me.
I can smell her before I can hear her. Georgia's undeniable scent of coconut and vanilla soothes something deep in my soul as I feel her place a kiss on the top of the cover closer to my ear rather than my forehead.
“I know that I said you didn’t have to tell us about what happened in New York, CJ,” she pauses, and I can feel that she’s looking over to Sienna for help with whateverthisis.
Growing up, I was usually the one consoling others. So, I know my friends are probably scared of whatever it is that has me like this and I’m petrified at the thought of scaring them.
“But can you please talk to us? I can’t stand to see you like this anymore,” she finishes, slowly pulling the covers down.
“Cleo, we’re always going to be here for you, but we need to know how we can help you. You always help us but we're stuck when it comes to helping you.” Sienna’s voice is soft and soothing, the same voice that I assume she uses with the kids at the dance studio.
Georgia coughs quietly and her voice cracking nearly breaks my heart. “You don’t have to tell us everything but, please tell us something,” she cries.
“The phone,” I mutter, still under the covers, feeling as the two of them shuffle around for my device.
Gasps followed by quiet curses are the only thing to be heard in the near silent bedroom. Slowly, I peel back the covers and watch them read over the messages that’s been plaguing me for the past year.
Sienna is the first to speak, her tone soft as her wide brown eyes look between Georgia, the phone, and me.
“Who… Who is sending you this?” she questions, scrolling through the texts.
“And why the fuck haven’t we killed them for threatening you?!” Georgia shoots up from her spot near me, knocking over the small cup of water on my nightstand.
“Fuck me…” she curses, leaving to get napkins.
Sienna takes a moment before speaking up; she stares at me long and hard and then sighs before looking back at the messages, clearly shaken by them.
“You don’t have to tell us everything right now, but when you do, just know that we will go to hell and back for you, Cleo. The person texting you this stuff will get what’s coming to them.”
“I don’t know specifically who it is…” I croak, wiping my eyes of the nearly dry tears.
Georgia comes back with our mop and some napkins. “Do you have a clue on who it may be? And why are they picking on you? You’re the nicest person I know.” She frowns as she picks up the cup.
I gulp, looking between the women who are like my sisters and just as I’m about to spill my dirty laundry, the doorbell rings.
“Shit… Denver’s here. I’ll go get her and if you’re up to it, we can talk about this before going to the game.” Georgia gives me a soft smile before leaving.
Sienna frowns, tugging me into her arms. She cuddles me, rubbing circles on my back as I sit in her lap.
“Was this why you left New York? Is this why you’re not at Brighton?”
All I can do is nod as she sighs. “Was it Marcelo? Is that who started this?” she asks, and I guess my silence is enough of an answer because Sienna pulls back from me, her gaze sharp and locked on mine.
“I’m going to skin that motherfucker and feed him to Oscar.”
