Page 4 of Fight for Me

“Are you really that disgusted with me? If you’re embarrassed to be my friend, I can be more discreet. Or I could even stop seeing those guys. I don’t really care about them, Claire...”

She shakes her head and concentrates on me. “What happened to your back?”

“What?” I ask, caught completely off guard and then make big eyes at Claire, when I realize I just changed in front of her and completely forgot about the bruises marring my shoulder blades. How could I be so fucking careless?

I try to swallow down my panic when Claire takes a hold of my hand. “Babe, is someone hurting you?” When I automatically shake my head in negation, she adds forcefully, “You know, you can tell me, Jenny. I won’t judge you.”

Still shaking my head, I laugh awkwardly and try to play it off with a wave of my hand. “No! I mean, thanks for the concern, Claire, but I totally forgot about slipping and falling on the track today during the P.E. class. I’m fine though.”

She eyes me suspiciously and bites the inside of her cheek, but after looking into my eyes for what feels like an eternity, she nods. “All right, if you say so...”

“That’s what happened,” I press. “So, are we going or what?” I pull up Claire with me as I stand up.

“Yeah, come on.”

––––––––

WHEN WE REACH THE MILL, the party is already in full swing, and it’s completely dark out. The place is crawling with drunk idiots and half-naked girls shaking their asses to some horrible bouncy music that I could only describe as torture. Still, I act as if this is exactly the place I want to be on a Friday night. I grab at Claire’s hand, so we don’t get separated in the sea of strangers, and drag her toward the familiar group I got a glimpse of in the crowd.

From that point on, everything goes on as usual: we sit around, smoke pot, talk about dumb stuff, and I refrain from rolling my eyes listening to the moronic pick-up lines that Claire has to put up with from every male in the group.

The upside of letting Marcus follow me around is that at least I have a break from those horny vultures, who would say just about anything to get a girl.

The downside is that I have to smile and pretend to listen to him, knowing that he doesn't give a damn about my personality, and that he's just waiting for the moment when I spread my legs for him. This pretense is terribly tiring. Fortunately, Marcus is always eager to share the goods at Friday parties. In general, I'm not a fan of alcohol or drugs, but I'll never deny myself some pot. It makes the company surrounding me seem less annoying, and I even feel like I'm having a good time.

However, after an hour or so, I feel a change in the atmosphere. Something is off. When I look around, I notice it’s not just the usual crowd of high school students milling around like before. There’s a group of bikers I have never seen around here, and I swear some are wearing some kind of gang symbols. I could be wrong, though. It’s Bell Ridge, not Miami, after all.

Looking around, I notice I’m not the only one feeling uneasy with the newcomers. There’s a visible gap between the teens and the dangerous-looking men. People cast intrigued or worried glances around and talk in hushed voices.

“Hey, what got you so spooked?” Marcus leans over with an easy smile and nudges my leg with his.

Still eyeing the older men, I respond with a nod in their direction, “What’s up with those guys? I’ve never seen them before. They’re giving me the creeps.”

Marcus looks up in the direction of the men and shrugs, but there’s a small frown between his eyebrows. “Who cares? They’re just chilling.” He nudges my leg once again to get my attention and when I peer at him with lifted eyebrows, he smiles suggestively, before tilting his head in the direction of the house.

I make eye contact with Claire, who’s already watching me like a hawk. When I gesture with my hand where I’m going, she nods and then shows me a thumb down, indicating that she gets where I’m going, and she doesn’t approve. Well, that’s her problem.

I smile at Marcus and grab his extended hand before we both march into the abandoned building.

––––––––

“ARE YOU STAYING AT the party or heading home? I could give you a ride,” Marcus offers as he lightens a cigarette. I pluck it out of his mouth and take a drag before returning it.

“Thanks, but no, thanks. I have to find Claire,” I say distractedly as I slip on my jacket and move to unlock the door.

“No goodbye kiss?” Marcus calls after me, but I don’t bother answering as I exit in a haste.

This moment after sex is the worst. For me, it’s only about physicality and making myself feel good. About my body experiencing positive touch. Staying after seems very intimate, and I don’t think I can open up to someone enough for them to look at my naked body full of unwanted marks and imperfections. Maybe I just don’t want that with Marcus. I don’t know. What I do know is that I always have to flee, or I’ll start to freak out.

I almost reach the first step of the staircase when I hear someone downstairs yelling “Cops!” before the music stops abruptly and a stampede of running feet echoes through the building.

“Fuck!” I whisper as I start to descend hurriedly, taking two steps at a time. I pass by a window and try to search for Claire, but it’s too dark out to make out anything apart from some moving silhouettes.

I’m running through the corridors trying to get to the backdoor when I’m halted by a loud voice, “Jennifer?”

I whirl around and see the sheriff standing in a big room to my left, surrounded by officers wandering around and trying to wake those who were too wasted to run from the police. The expression my father wears is stricken as he summons me with a wave of his hand.

Real fear washes over me, squeezing me by the throat, and making me feel like I’m drowning when my eyes meet his cold ones. The malicious glint in my father’s eyes is promising me punishment in the near future. But not yet. Now we both have a role to play, and it’s a well-rehearsed one. We’ve been here many times. Our masks are now so well crafted, that sometimes even I feel like clapping in astonishment at my father’s acting skills.

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