11"Celia Jacobs."
Celia looks up after hearing her name called, only moving from her seat after Ms. Hayes, the secretary, gestures for her to make her way into Mrs. Taylor's office.
Mrs. Taylor is the school's guidance counselor.
"Please, take a seat, Celia," Mrs. Taylor says mere seconds after Celia enters her office.
She does as told, seating herself in the chair in front of Mrs. Taylor's desk.
Celia's never been in Mrs. Taylor's office before. Well, she's been in the office a few times before, but never when Mrs. Taylor occupied it. She just started working at East Boston a few months ago. She's young, about twenty-six, twenty-seven. Pretty, too. The boys think so, anyway, from what Celia hears in nearly every single one of her classes.
That's not why she's here, though. Obviously. Actually, Celia has no clue as to why she's here. She was told by Mr. Dawes, her eighth period teacher, to report to the counselor's office after the final bell. So, she did, and now here she is.
"Do you know why you're here, Miss Jacobs?" is the first thing Mrs. Taylor asks her.
She doesn't say anything. She just shakes her head.
"Would you like to know why?" is the older woman's next question.
Celia nods, still refusing to say anything. She doesn't know what to say.
"Someone who cares an awful lot about you came to see me during lunch," Mrs. Taylor starts, and Celia stares at her, confused. "This boy seemed very worried about you and said that you've been acting off lately. Like you're scared of something." Celia still doesn't say anything, but she's nervous. She doesn't have to ask who asked Mrs. Taylor to help her, she already knows. It was Vincent. She knows he didn't believe her this morning when she said she was fine.
She's not mad that he asked for help. She appreciates that he cares, but Mrs. Taylor can't help her. No one can. Except maybe herself. "Are you scared of something, Celia?" Mrs. Taylor asks. Celia remains silent. "Are you scared of someone?"
The teenager instantly shakes her head. She's not a liar, but this she has to lie about. To protect herself. To protect Vince.
"I'm fine, just like I told Vince this morning. He has no reason to worry about me." The lie rolls right off her tongue, but that doesn't mean it's easy. It just means she's getting good at lying.
Mrs. Taylor doesn't believe her, but she doesn't make that known. It's not her job to push the students to talk. It's merely her job to let them know she's there to listen and to help if they want it. She can see that this girl needs it, can see that she's hiding something, but it's not her job to point that out.
She really hates that her job has so many restrictions.
"Are you sure about that?" She hates having to ask that question. She feels like a psychiatrist, and that's not what she is. She's a high school guidance counselor. That question irks her, makes her think she's being condescending or mocking her students, but it's the only question she ever thinks to ask when a student won't talk.
"Positive," Celia states, forcing a smile onto her face. She's an expert at that now. That, and lying. "Is that all?" she asks, knowing that if she doesn't get out of this office soon, she'll talk. She wants to talk, she wants to tell the truth, but she's too afraid. Afraid of what he'll do to her. Who knows, maybe they'll catch him before he can do anything, but she's seen enough episodes of SVU to know that's not always the case. She's not sure she wants to take that chance.
"If you mean can you go, then, yes, you may," Mrs. Taylor says, stopping Celia from leaving after she stands up. "Just know that if you ever need to talk, I'm here." She knows the words are a waste of breath, but she's holding onto the hope that they're not.
"Thank you, Mrs. Taylor. I'll take that into consideration," Celia says before leaving. She meant what she said. She'll take Mrs. Taylor's words into consideration, but it won't make much of a difference. She won't change her mind about talking because she can't.
She wishes more than anything that she could.
- X -
She doesn't want to go to the basketball court today, but she knows Vince will start to worry more if she doesn't show and she can't have that.
So, she goes despite herself and tries really hard not to lose her composure when the first face she sees is his.
She thinks maybe she should have had Vince drive her to the court, but she'd driven herself because she needed some time alone. What she hadn't thought through was the possibility that the first person at the court might not have been Vince, but Blake, instead.
He makes his way over to her and she swears her heart stops beating. It's not like when Vince makes her heart stop beating - no, she likes that feeling, but this one, she doesn't like. She's scared. It's almost like Blake knows it, too.
She gulps, feeling herself start to shake a little as he runs his finger up her arm, usual smirk in place. The smirk that all the girls talk about, but all the girls don't know that he's a monster.
She doesn't know that for sure, though. Maybe she's not the only girl that knows. She hopes she is. Not for her sake, but for theirs.
"Couldn't stay away, huh?"
His tone is cocky. It disgusts her.
He continues running his finger up and down her arm. She wishes he would stop touching her. She knows he won't.
A car pulls up. She jumps a little, jerking away from Blake.
She knows it's Vince. She's never been more thankful for his presence.
Vince and Blake do that guy nod thing that always irks her after Vince approaches them.
She wonders what Vince would do if he knew. She doesn't let herself think about it long. She knows what he'd do. He'd kill Blake.
She considers telling him right at that moment, when he and Blake head off to the opposite end of the court to start a game of one on one until the other boys and their girlfriends show. Vince would protect her, keep her out of harm's way, but she knows what he'll do if she tells him right now and there's too much concrete and she refuses to let him go to jail because of her.
So, she just keeps her mouth shut and plasters a smile onto her face and tries terribly hard not to break down every time Blake looks at her.
- X -
She's relieved when she arrives home.
She locks all the doors. She tells her mom she does it because it's the smart thing to do. She really does it because it feels safer this way.
She heads to her room. She tries to cry, but she can't, so she gives up and starts on her homework. It's like this every time she comes home. She'll try to cry, but she'll choke up and no tears will fall. She wishes they would. She's always thought crying helps. It's never made her feel weak.
She feels weak because she can't cry.
Seconds, minutes pass and it gets harder for her to concentrate on Trigonometry. She can still feel his finger on her arm and it's making her think too much about that night. She doesn't want to go back there. She doesn't, normally. It's easy if she distracts herself, but it's a lot harder on days like this. Days where she's seen too much of him.
She closes her eyes, but instantly regrets it. All she sees is him on top of her. Her fighting, screaming, begging for him to stop, but he doesn't. He just laughs and forces himself inside her. He's covering her mouth so she can't scream anymore. She just wants him to stop. Please stop...
Her eyes fly open and she's breathing heavily. There's wetness on her cheeks. She realizes she's crying.
The realization makes her feel better. Not a lot, but a little. She doesn't think it will fix her. She knows it can't hurt worse, though, so she just lays there and she cries.
I didn't want to update this. I really didn't. I crack under pressure. There's too much for a story like this, but I wrote it anyway because apparently I feel the need to stress myself out.
This is short. Not as short as the last chapter, I don't think. I think the next one's the last. I dunno when I'll write it. Eventually. When inspiration hits, I'm sure. Yeah, so, here...
Oh, I changed my pen name. Too much 'Skins'. Effy's quote was one of my favorites.
Sometimes I think I was born backwards... you know, come out of my mum the wrong way. I hear words go past me backwards. The people I should love, I hate, and the people I hate...