Josette Marshall

"I dare you to make out with Lucas." Just as Nailea spit out those eight words, my heartbeat increased, probably in an abnormal way. My breathing shallowed. I needed air, I needed oxygen and it felt like there wasn't any. "What?" Me and Christian both said at the same time. Hearing those words, Lucas excitedly stood up. Not me. Not me. Not me. I hope I'm dreaming. Am I dreaming? Oh, I wish, except I wasn't. "Why are you thinking so much? It's just a kiss. Go on. He doesn't bite. I know, personally." She smirked. It is not just a kiss. No. No. No.

Lucas came over to me, I stood up. His eyes were full of desire, which scared me the most. "C'mon, did your mother not teach you anything? Oh wait, she died." My eyes widened, and my breath caught in my throat as if time had momentarily suspended itself. "Lucas, back off!" Christian tried to defend me, but this was my situation. My heart raced, a chaotic drumbeat matching the turmoil within. We were having very bizarre eye contact, it was creepy. I looked him in the eye without showing the scarred side of me. "I'm done playing this game" and I walked out. I found myself trapped in an overwhelming situation, my breathing quickened, and my mind was beginning to race with fearful thoughts. I looked around, eyes wide with panic, trying to find an escape route or someone who could help. My palms grew sweaty, and my body felt tense as adrenaline surged through my veins. It was as if my thoughts were spiraling out of control, each negative scenario playing out in vivid detail. I tried to calm myself as I walked into the ladies' restroom by taking deep breaths, but it was difficult to focus as my mind seemed to be consumed by the situation.

I could feel my chest tightening, and a sense of helplessness washing over my face. I desperately wanted to reach out to someone, to explain what was happening inside my mind, but the words seemed to stick in my throat. Time seemed to slow down as I grappled with the overwhelming fear that had taken hold of me. At that moment, it was as if the world had narrowed down to the immediate surroundings, and every sound, and every movement seemed magnified. The sensation of panic was almost suffocating me as I was struggling to think clearly or logically.

I was inside one of the stalls in the restroom when I heard someone enter. "Josette?" I remembered that voice. I had found myself in a situation I couldn't have predicted, trapped by circumstances that had spiraled out of control. It felt like I was suffocating under the weight of fear and uncertainty. And then he arrived, a steady presence cutting through the turmoil around me. "It's Christian. Ar-Are you okay?" I stepped out. His eyes held a mixture of concern and determination as he assessed the situation. Without hesitation, he stepped in, his mere presence creating a shield against the troubles that had threatened to engulf me. That guy, the one I had seen around but never really spoken to, his words were calm and reassuring, a lifeline I desperately clung to in the stormy sea of my emotions. It wasn't just his actions that touched me, but the fact that he had chosen to be there for me when I needed someone the most. He didn't have to step in, but he did, without a second thought. He became my hero, not because he had all the answers, but because he cared enough to stand by my side. 

"Hey, it's going to be alright. Just take a deep breath." His words should have been comforting, and in any other circumstance, I might have appreciated his kindness. But not now. Not when I felt so vulnerable, so exposed. I didn't want his help. I didn't want him to see me like this, weak and scared. As he continued to offer his support, a bitter feeling began to well up inside me. Who was he to swoop in and be the hero? Why couldn't I handle this situation on my own? The resentment grew with each passing moment, a mix of anger at myself for needing help and frustration at him for offering it. I finally managed to regain some semblance of composure and mumbled a half-hearted thank you. He smiled, seemingly pleased that he had been able to assist. But all I felt was a growing antipathy, an irrational aversion to the very person who had extended a helping hand.

Even as the situation began to resolve itself and my panic subsided, I couldn't shake off the resentment I felt toward him. It was as if his presence had magnified my insecurities and weaknesses, making me despise him all the more. As I walked away from that moment, I couldn't help but wonder if my resentment was more about my shortcomings than anything he had done. 

I could feel him walking behind me without saying a word, As much as I hated him, it kind of felt comforting having him around. It was past midnight, I couldn't call Audreya and disturb her and my cab had just been canceled, figured I should just walk home. The distance between my house and The Nightingale wasn't close but wasn't far either. I was on my way out when Christian came over to me.

"I'm sorry for everything. It was never supposed to happen." I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. But do I? "It wasn't your fault. Nailea's a bitch." I could see a little smile growing until he dropped it. After today I can tell, he hated him equally. "I won't say anything that happened in the restroom, to anyone." Yeah, you better not. I came here to get drunk. Wasted to be clearer. But after what happened, I was sober as hell right now. I nodded to what he said. "Appreciate it." I started to walk towards the street again when he called me from behind. 

"You're not walking home, are you?" Concern washed over his face. "It's not that far."

"Hell yeah, it is." What does this mean? Does he know where I live? But how would he-?

"I meant because it's very late, and it's pretty dangerous for a girl to walk home. Alone." What he said wasn't completely wrong. It was dangerous, but I was used to roaming around the streets past midnight. Plus, I also know how to fight. I used to attend boxing classes when I was little. He walked towards me and stood right in front of me. I never really noticed how tall he was, probably 5'9 or 6 feet whereas I was 5'2. I had to tilt my head upward to look him in the eye. Distress is all that I saw. It was very intense eye contact, which I was not afraid of, this time. "You know, It's not like I'm twelve, right?" 

"But you're a girl and there are probably a bunch of drunk guys roaming around." He was right, except it wasn't the first time I was out. "I never came across any."

"It's a matter of just one time." His gaze intensified, and I could see his pupil inside his chocolatey brown eyes widening. His eyes held a depth that conveyed not only his care and worry for me but also an undeniable appreciation for who I was. It was as if his gaze was a warm embrace, assuring me that he saw my strength and beauty and that he genuinely cared about my well-being. I wondered what was going on inside his mind about me. Is he also thinking about me in the way I am thinking about him? Is he thinking the way I think he's thinking? The appreciation. The assurance. The concern. The care. Is it all true? 

No. No. No. What are you even thinking, Jo?

Not him. Not him. Not him.

I couldn't think of him in that way. I hated him and I'll always hate him. 

That's when he leaned in and unexpectedly kissed me. Oh my god! What? HE KISSED ME? 

NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO.

It was all a lie. The appreciation. The assurance. The concern. The care. It was all a pathetic lie. Just for him to make me fall and then complete the dare I ran from inside for. It was all a part of his pathetic master plan. I immediately shoved him infuriatingly and burst out. "What the fuck, Christian? What the hell is wrong with you?" 

A surge of shock coursed through me as his lips suddenly met mine, stealing away what was supposed to be a precious and intimate moment. I'd always imagined my first kiss to be magical and perfect, but he ruined it all. My heart, once full of hope and anticipation, plummeted into a pit of anger and sadness. How could he do this? How could he take something so personal without my consent? The touch that was meant to be gentle and tender now felt invasive, an unwelcome intrusion into my personal space and emotions. I had dreamt about my first kiss – the sweetness, the connection, the choice to share such a vulnerable moment. But all of that was shattered in an instant by his thoughtless act. Once again, he proved to me that what I felt about him from the start was true instead of what I had imagined a few minutes ago. "I thought you felt it too, the spark." Anger flared within me like a burning fire. How dare he assume that he had the right to decide when and how this moment should happen? The betrayal of my trust stung deeply, and a part of me wanted to lash out, to demand an explanation for his audacity.

But beneath the anger lay a layer of sadness that weighed heavily on my heart. The kiss that should have been filled with excitement and affection was now tainted with a sense of loss. And all I was left was regret. "I messed up. I'm sorry." No sorry could bring me back what I had already lost a few minutes ago. "I should have known better. I regret doing it. I'm sorry." The sadness and concern started to appear on his face again, just like it did a few minutes ago. But it wasn't the truth and neither is this. He's playing. He always had been. "I'm sorry for ruining everything." His words cut through my heart, making it bleed. My throat was heavy and not allowing me to speak. "Please, say something. Please."

"I need space. I want you to leave me alone and I want you to not follow me as well." I wasn't in a form to look him in the eye. I didn't want him to look at my vulnerable state twice a day, I couldn't. So, I just walked away. I heard him whisper something like okay. Two guys were standing, one of them holding a bottle of whiskey. I needed that, I didn't ask. I just took it, and without any questioning, he loosened his grip and let me take it. I bet they both saw everything. I could see Christian from the corner of my eye, standing right where I left him, frozen. 

I was far away from the bar, but there was still no sign of my house. I was walking down the street when a fully grown man jumped in front of me. I was not in a state to argue. "Beautiful girl. You should not walk around at this time, alone." 

"Leave me alone," I said and started to walk again, but the creepy guy stepped in between my way. "Don't leave me hanging here, sweetie." Sweetie? What am I your daughter? Technically, no father would do this to their daughter, what he was trying with me, was harassment. I didn't say anything and just walked until I felt a firm grip on my hand. I turned my head to see another guy. His face was obscured by the shadows of his tattered hat. My hand was trapped in his grasp, his fingers like cold, iron bands around my wrist.

"Hey there, sweetheart," his voice rasped, a sinister edge to his tone that sent a wave of nausea through me. "Why don't you come with me? I think you've got something I want." His grip tightened, and the second thing I knew was that I had to prepare myself for a fight. The darkness seemed to close in around me, and the world became a twisted nightmare. This day couldn't get any worse. I could feel the weight of his intentions in that tight grip, his eyes hidden but undoubtedly leering at me. "Let go of me, asshole!"

He chuckled, a sound that twisted my stomach even more. "Now, now, no need to be rude. Just hand over your bag, and maybe I'll let you go." I wasn't going to hand over the last thing my dad had given me. Not in any chance. With a swift movement, I pivoted on my back foot, using the torque to twist my hand free from his grip. The surprise on his face was evident as my knuckles met the target, a solid punch landing squarely on his jaw. The satisfying thud of impact reverberated through my hand. Looking at the look on the other creepy man's face, I knew they were both together. Of course, they were. He ran over to me and clutched my hand tighter this time. I was already drunk and wasn't in my senses when the other one got up too. At that very moment, I knew I was screwed now. Both of them were holding me from each side now, their grips tightened when I tried to free myself again. At that very moment, I knew that the bag didn't matter because I was probably going to see my father. 

The world around me felt like it was spinning, and I couldn't seem to catch my balance. Dead. Both of them were speaking something, but their voices sounded distant and muffled. My body feels heavy like I'm moving through thick syrup. I tried to take a step forward, but I was too wasted to free myself. My heart was racing, and I could feel a wave of dizziness washing over me. I was about to fall unconscious when a strange, pair of bright, intense beams emerged in the distance, overwhelming my vision. And all of a sudden, I felt those grips loosening bit by bit. I take another step forward, but my knees already gave way, and suddenly, the floor was rushing up to meet me. Everything goes black, and for a moment, I wasn't sure where I was or what was happening.