23 : Lines In The Sand
533 Words
Jason was a storm contained in human form.
After lunch that day, he didn’t return to class. Instead, he dragged me into the parking lot, his fists clenched, his jaw locked, his eyes burning with one thought only: Chelsea.
“She thinks she can humiliate you? Humiliate us?” he seethed, pacing like a caged animal. “I’m done playing nice.”
Fear knotted in my stomach. “Jason, please—don’t do something reckless. That’s what she wants.”
He stopped and turned on me, his voice raw. “You think I can just sit back while she drags your name through the mud? While she turns this into a circus?”
I hugged my arms around myself, my voice trembling. “If you fight her, she’ll twist it against you. She always wins.”
His eyes softened then, just for a moment, and he stepped closer, his hand brushing mine. “Not this time, Princess. Not when it comes to you.”
⸻
By the next morning, the line had been drawn.
Jason walked into school like he owned it—head high, broad shoulders squared, that dangerous aura that made people step out of his way. But this time, he wasn’t just intimidating. He was furious.
And he was looking for Chelsea.
It didn’t take long. She was by her locker, laughing with her friends, her phone in her hand like always. Jason strode up, grabbed it, and slammed it shut in one move so swift the entire hallway went silent.
Chelsea blinked, startled for the first time I’d ever seen her. “Excuse me?”
Jason leaned in, his voice low and lethal. “You’ve had your fun. It ends now.”
Her smirk returned quickly, though I saw the flicker of unease in her eyes. “Or what? You’ll hit me? Careful, Jason, you don’t want to ruin that golden-boy reputation.”
Jason’s jaw tightened. “You think I care about reputation? Post another photo, spread another lie, and I swear you’ll regret it.”
The crowd held its breath.
Chelsea tilted her head, lips curling. “Aw, protective stepbrother. How sweet. But don’t you get it? People like the drama. You two are entertainment. And I decide when the show ends.”
Jason slammed his hand against the locker beside her, making her flinch. “Not anymore. You don’t control her. You don’t control us. Try it again, Chelsea, and I’ll make sure everyone knows exactly how pathetic you are.”
Her mask slipped then—just for a second. Her smugness wavered, replaced by a flash of anger.
“You’ll regret this,” she hissed.
Jason leaned back, his voice sharp as a blade. “No. You will.”
⸻
The hallway erupted in whispers as Jason walked away, his hand finding mine and pulling me with him.
“Jason,” I whispered, my chest tight with both fear and something dangerously close to pride. “You just declared war.”
He looked down at me, his expression unyielding. “Good. Because I’m done playing defense. From now on, we fight back.”
And for the first time since Chelsea started her game, I believed him.
- Writer
