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Sixtine:Detention?
Me:She hasn’t told you?
Sixtine:She hasn’t come home yet.
My brow furrows at that. She should have been home hours ago.
Me:Just give me her fucking number.
Sixtine:Promise you won’t bully her?
Me:…
Sixtine:shared Bellamy Ward’s contact.
Sixtine:Don’t make me regret this.
I close out of my conversation with Six and start a new one with Bellamy.
Me:Where are you?
???
14.
Bellamy
Unknown number:Where are you?
I’m about to reply asking who the number belongs to when I receive another message, this time from Six.
Six:Hey, I gave Rogue your number. He’s probably going to text you.
Six:Sorry, he was pretty insistent. You know how he is. He promised he wouldn’t use his powers for evil though. Let me know if he does, I’ll give himun coup dans les boulesas we say.
Six:Translation: I’ll kick him in the balls.
Six:Also, where are you? Everything okay?
I darken the screen and toss my phone to the ground next to me. My legs dangle off the side of the pontoon. I’ve been sitting here for the past two hours, wracking my brain trying to find a solution to my current predicament.
I don’t know how I got here.
No, that’s not right. I know exactly how I got here. I’m aware of all the decisions I’ve made in the past two weeks that have brought me to this point. What I’m still trying to figure out is how I let it happen.
How I put everything on the line, my future, my mom’s future, just to stand up to Rogue. In retrospect, it wasn’t even worth it. There is no sense of victory from having slapped him, just disappointment that I let him goad me to that point. Six was right, I should have taken the path of least resistance. There’s no winning with someone who's determined to destroy you, no matter the collateral damage. He probably doesn’t even know what collateral damage is. A permanent mark on his record is nothing to him, daddy will just fix it.
Tears crest past my water line and fall down my cheeks. I bat them away with the back of my hand. I don’t get to cry about fucking up my own life.
The lump in my throat remains as I think about the upcoming consequences of my actions. Six weeks of detention starting tomorrow. Six weeks in a closed space with Rogue. I feel the stirrings of anxiety in my body and work to cool myself down before I have another panic attack.
I lie down on my back, keeping my chest as wide as possible.
I focus on the feeling of my hands intertwined together.
I take deep, steadying breaths.
My heart rate comes back down to a stable tempo. How had Rogue known exactly what to do to calm me down? He doesn’t strike me as someone who’s anything but overly confident in all aspects of his life, let alone someone who struggles with anxiety. I don’t think there’s much if anything that can really get past the titanium walls he has built around him to hurt him in that way.
