20: Cracks In The Armor
631 Words
Jason didn’t talk to me for two days.
Not at home, not at school, not anywhere. The silence was suffocating, and it was worse than any angry argument we’d ever had.
At dinner, he kept his eyes fixed on his plate, answering his dad’s questions in clipped tones and ignoring mine altogether. In the hallways at school, he walked past me like I was invisible. And every time he did, a part of me shattered a little more.
It was what I wanted, wasn’t it? To push him away? To protect him? Then why did it feel like I was being torn apart from the inside?
⸻
By Wednesday, the cracks began to show. Jason cornered me in the library after last period, his expression unreadable.
“You’re hiding something,” he said flatly, his voice low enough that only I could hear.
I stiffened. “I told you—I don’t want this anymore.”
He shook his head slowly, stepping closer until his presence swallowed me whole. “No. That’s not it. You’re lying to me. Again.”
My pulse raced, but I forced myself to stay calm. “You’re imagining things.”
“Am I?” His eyes narrowed. “Because the Olivia I know doesn’t just quit. She doesn’t give up without a fight. But suddenly, you want nothing to do with me? Something happened.”
I looked away, clutching my books tighter. “You don’t know everything about me, Jason.”
His jaw clenched, frustration radiating off him. “Then tell me. Whatever it is, I can handle it.”
If only he knew. If only I could tell him about Chelsea’s photo, her threats, the knife she held against both our throats. But the thought of dragging him into the mess made my stomach twist.
“It doesn’t matter,” I whispered.
His laugh was bitter. “That’s the thing, Princess—it matters to me.”
⸻
That night, Chelsea proved just how dangerous she could be.
Another text lit up my phone just before midnight.
Careful. Jason looks suspicious. Would be a shame if he found out from someone else.
I gritted my teeth, my hands trembling. She was watching. Always watching.
When I finally drifted off to sleep, it was restless. I dreamed of Jason, his eyes filled with hurt, betrayal, rage—all directed at me. And in the shadows, Chelsea’s laughter echoed like a knife twisting deeper.
⸻
The following day, Jason’s patience cracked further. He grabbed my wrist outside the cafeteria, pulling me into a quiet corner. His grip wasn’t harsh, but it was firm, desperate.
“I can’t do this,” he muttered, his voice low, almost breaking. “I can’t pretend like I don’t care. So if you’re going to keep pushing me away, at least have the guts to tell me why.”
I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. The words stuck in my throat, heavy and poisonous.
He studied me, his gaze piercing. “Who’s threatening you?”
My heart lurched. “What?”
“You heard me,” he said, his tone sharp, unwavering. “You’re scared of something—or someone. And I’m not stupid, Olivia. I see it in your eyes.”
Panic surged through me, but I shook my head frantically. “You’re wrong. I’m just—confused. That’s all.”
Jason didn’t buy it. I could see it in the way his jaw tightened, his fists clenching at his sides.
“You’re lying,” he whispered, almost to himself.
And with that, he walked away, leaving me standing there, my chest aching with the weight of the truth I couldn’t share.
⸻
Chelsea was winning.
And if Jason kept pushing, if he kept digging… she’d bury us both.
- Writer
