Ugly(26)

I take a few more deep breaths and open the door. The second I unlock it and push down on the handle, it’s forced open and John barrels in, pushing me back into the bathroom. His lunge is so powerful I stumble back and fall on my bottom.

He quietly closes the door and locks it. I scoot back until I feel the cold wall through my t-shirt. “You’re such a good girl, waiting for me,” he says as he stalks toward me.

“Please, don’t,” I beg as I brace myself for what’s about to happen.

“Shhh, no need to say anything, sugar. I’ll take care of you.” He unzips his jeans and begins to push them down over his hips. He grabs me by the shoulders and easily lifts me. “Now, be a good little girl and pull your shorts down.”

This makes me feel sick. My heart is beating so quickly in my chest, and that nauseous feeling has returned, but even worse. “No,” I cry as his hands grope at my body. “No!” I shout louder.

“You’re feisty. I like a woman when she fights back. It’s sexy.” He leans in and licks my neck as his hands keep fondling my breasts.

With all my might, I push him away and run for the door, unlocking it and bolting out to the table where everyone is eating and enjoying their lunch.

I sit beside Trent, and he immediately sees me shaking. “What’s wrong?” he asks as he puts his fork down and wraps me in his arms.

Breathing through the lump in my throat, I try and form a sentence. But there’s no words molding into anything comprehensible.

“She fell and it frightened her. I was there to help her up,” says John as he confidently strolls back to his seat and sits beside me. I move my chair over closer to Trent and further away from John. “Lucky I was there, actually, she could’ve gone through that glass coffee table. Now that would’ve been ugly, wouldn’t it, sugar?” he says. But his tone is giving me a warning. To shut up and not say anything or next time, I’ll be hurt.

As I sit beside Trent, in his arms, shaking, I can’t say anything.

“Thank God you were there,” Trent says to John as his hand rubs up and down my back. “Isn’t that right, Lily?” He kisses me on the forehead. I can’t do anything. I can’t agree and I can’t say a word. Not now, not with everyone here. “Poor thing, she really is spooked.” He kisses me again on the forehead.

I stay cocooned in Trent’s arms, not wanting to look at John. But I can feel his evil eyes boring into me, drilling through my back.

“Aren’t you hungry, sugar?” John asks. Just his mere words sends another shiver up my back.

I shake my head, and try to move even closer to Trent. “You have to eat,” Trent says. I can barely form a sentence let alone consider eating. But I have to put on the appearance everything is okay. Because if I don’t, then everyone will know. I’m good at not letting anyone in.

John’s already convinced everyone he saved me, when he’s the one I needed saving from. I move my chair out so I’m far away from the table’s edge, this way if John tries grabbing me again, Trent can see it for himself. Picking up my fork, I push the food around, but take small bites. The food is sitting high up in my stomach, ready to make a quick reappearance if John touches me again.

When lunch is done, Mrs. Hackly stands and begins to gather all the used plates. I stand with her, and decide to stick close by to her. This way, John can’t come near me.

We take the plates into the kitchen. Everyone else stays outside talking and laughing. I scrape the wasted food into the trash can and shake my head. A few weeks ago I would’ve pleaded to have food like this. And now, I couldn’t eat what was on my plate because of what happened with John. I’m so ashamed I let it go to waste, I’m no better than people who disregard others who are starving.

“He touched you, didn’t he?” Mrs. Hackly whispers.

Every hair stands to attention all down my arms and on the back of my neck. Ice runs through my veins, touching the furthest extremities of my body. Slowly I turn my head to look at her. She’s rinsing the dishes in the sink and her head is lowered. I can see tears slowly rolling down her cheek and drip one by one into the dirty dishwater.

“How did you know?” I ask as I struggle to keep my voice steady. Her tears intensify and she looks at me. The look itself screams a thousand words. Telling me the entire horrific chapter in her life that she’s desperately trying to not let anyone see. “Oh my God,” I whisper as I put a plate down and go to give her a hug.

Mrs. Hackly shakes her head at me and says through her tears, “Don’t, please.”