.::Chapter Eight::.

The air was muggy and close as I walked home alone. All the houses on the street were dark and silent. Only the occasional bark of a distant dog could be heard. I could tell there was another storm coming by the way the air hung heavily around me. The humid atmosphere brought an uncomfortable sweat to my body. I neared my house, breathing in relief at the feel of the cool ocean breeze. My hair blew in my face as I came closer. Another perfect Miami night, too bad I was by myself. I reached into my pocket for a cigarette, once again feeding the pointless addiction I had become accustom to. If I had lived in a stable family all my life, I might have been taught that smoking was wrong and it could kill you. But I hadn't so there was no difference. I let out a cloud of smoke in front of me as I stepped onto the front porch. My hand fumbled in my shorts pocket for my house key. I felt the metal edge of it but only after a strong hand grabbed me from behind. I was jerked backwards; my cigarette fell from my mouth and dropped to the concrete step. I saw black. The black of some one's eyes. A familiar and frightening pair of eyes. "I was beginning to think I'd have to wait all night for you to come home," Nick said happily with an evil chuckle. "I missed you so much, you know I don't like it when you disappear like that," he told me without a hint of sincerity. He shoved me forwards,"Open the door!" My shaking hand found the key and inserted it in the lock. He kicked the door in and pushed me inside. I fell to the hardwood floor from the shove. Nick loomed above me, staring down at me like I was an insect. He collapsed next to me and grabbed my wrists. His breath smelled of maijuana, a bad indicator that he was stoned. When he was, I got three times worse the treatment. He still held my wrists to the floor. Thinking he wouldn't know what to do, I lifted my leg and kicked him backwards. Nick fell back but quickly stood up again, wobbling a bit but managed to steady himself. "You f***ing bitch!" he screamed and plunged his foot into my ribs. I let out a cry of pain and curled up to comfort my injured side. He bent down and lifted me to my feet by the collar of my shirt. I felt him slam my body against the wall. First he spit in my face and then slapped me. That's all I can remember of that night.

I groaned and rolled over. Pain shot up throughout my whole left side. Light flooded in through the open drapes; I squinted at the sight. I felt my face, it was swollen. Leaning against the stair banister for support, I slowly stood up. It took several minutes but I managed to creep into the downstairs bathroom. The mirror was lying. For I did not see the same girl as the day before. What I saw was bruised and battered looking teenager, someone I had never seen. My eye was enflamed and my once perfect forehead now held a bloody gash. A bruise on my right cheekbone occupied the other side of my face. I would have cried if it didn't hurt so much; I couldn't even begin to think of what Nick did to me last night. This would not heal soon I thought to myself as I examined my eye. I went and put ice on it to keep it from swelling any larger.

The Phillips had gone to visit a relative in Jacksonville for the remainder of the week. A bandaid on my forehead, a puffy eye, and a bruised face wouldn't look too apealing when they got home. I would have to start planning a lie soon.

I went out to the front porch to have a morning cigarette, just about the only thing that could get me going at this rate. A strong inhale of nicotine usually did me good but today was different. Depression seemed to have settled over me. Out of my one uninjured eye, I could see someone coming down the street on rollerblades. As they neared closer I began to recognize the face. Zac skated up my driveway, jumped over a bush, and landed on the brick walkway in front of me. His hands were on his hips when he stopped to look me over. "You shouldn't smoke, it's bad for you," he said. I purposly blew smoke in his face,"So?" He frowned but then sat down beside me on the stoop. "And Tay doesn't like people who smoke," he said as a matter of fact. "He likes me," I told him simply. This made Zac think a moment. "Yeah, he does," he concluded after his epsiode of reasoning. I smiled, realizing he was telling the truth. "But you won't be seeing him for a while anyway," he said in a voice that begged me to ask why. I wasn't a person to keep quiet,"How come?" He turned to me excitedly. "Last night I got in the window before him and jumped in bed but he was still outside and I heard mom in the hall and she walked in just as Tay came in the window but I was in bed so she didn't get mad at me but grounded him for a week," he proclaimed in one long and proud breath. "And you didn't try to get him out of trouble?" I asked, disappointed that Taylor wouldn't be around. "Heck no. He was yelling at me the whole way home for interuppting you and him so why should I help him?" he said dignantly. I didnt bother to even answer him. "Hey, what happened to you since last night?" Zac suddenly noticed my appearance. I shamefully covered the side of my face he was staring at. "Nothing," I mumbled. "Was it that guy?" he wanted to know. "What guy? And how would you know anyway?" I snapped and brought my eyes up to stare into his. This conversation seemed to be going much like my first with Taylor. Only Zac didnt give up until he got an answer out of me,"Well, was it?" I was silent. He waited for me to tell him, unwavering and expressionless. "Yeah, it was Nick," I finally gave in. He said nothing. Just watched me, studying me, while I looked away at the ground.

[Chapter Nine]