Chapter 18 — What Do I Do?
1025 Words
I was a bit floored that he'd follow me to make sure I was safe… but my anger easily overrode the giddy feeling in me.
“Let's go home, Rosie,” Henry said.
“I'm not going with you.”
I heard a car door open and close.
“Are you alright, Rosie?” Andy asked, leaning against his car.
“This is none of your concern, boy,” Henry said, gaze still locked on mine.
“Excuse you,” Andy said, walking closer. “She's my friend—”
“And she's my daughter.”
He scoffed lightly, “She said she isn't.”
Henry's jaw clenched tightly.
“Would you like to assure your little boyfriend that you're absolutely fine?”
“He's not my boyfriend,” I replied, rolling my eyes.
He scoffed sharply. “Oh really?”
I huffed in annoyance.
“Why are you following me, Henry?”
“Why? You don't just enter some random guy's car and expect me to believe you'll be safe.”
“He's my friend—”
“Friend? How gullible can you be, Rosie?”
“Don't even start—”
“Oh, I will start. Are you that desperate for someone to f**k you—”
Slap.
His head snapped to the side.
My heart slammed wildly in my chest.
Tears stung at the back of my eyes, threatening to fall… both from the hurt I was feeling and from the sharp zing in my palm.
“I'll just… leave you two to it,” Andy said, quietly.
He got into his car and drove off.
“Rosie I—”
“f**k you, Henry.” I croaked, trying to hold back the tears.
“I'm so sorry, I didn't mean—”
I adjusted my bag on my shoulder and began walking home.
He didn't follow me. Neither did he stop me.
I reached home in no time, thankful for the quietness that greeted me.
I trudged towards my room, feeling a twinge of fatigue as I pushed the door open, then slammed it shut with more force than necessary.
I didn't go to my bed—I went to my bathroom instead, took off my clothes and turned on the shower.
Almost instantly, the water cascaded down my body and the tears followed.
Why was I even crying?
It was quite simple really.
I felt hurt by his words… hurt by his accusations, and God knows I really wanted to hate him—I really did.
But I couldn't…
And even at that moment, despite knowing he was the cause of my pain—
I realized that I still found myself craving his touch.
******
For the next three weeks, I zoned out often.
I couldn't concentrate on my studies… more like I never heard a word the teachers were saying.
And when the tests came, I didn't know what to write—so I submitted a blank sheet.
And all the while, I'd been avoiding Henry like the plague.
I'd been skipping his classes and staying in my room whenever I came home.
It was quite easy, seeing as he did the same too.
By the end of week four, Principal Nowell called me into her office and decided it was best she talk to me.
She occasionally asked if I needed any help, while she stared at me with worry and disappointment.
So, it didn't come as a surprise when mum called me to the living room and slammed my result sheets on the table.
“Seriously, Rosie. What is going on?” Mum asked, staring at my results.
I just sat down, gaze locked on nothing in particular.
As Mum's voice droned on in the background.
“...you've gotten even worse than before.”
Newsflash.
“...you don't eat much, you barely come out of your room, you don't even talk to me anymore.”
Consider being in my shoes. Let's see if you can talk to your mother about wanting her fiancé.
“...and when I do—you just stare at nothing.” she yelled.
“Is everything alright, Denise?” Henry asked, walking into the living room.
My gaze snapped to his, and for the first time since this conversation started, I felt in tune with myself.
“Is everything alright?” Mum echoed, sarcastically. “Are you really asking me that, Henry?”
His eyes drifted to me and I ripped mine away quickly, suddenly feeling small under his heated gaze.
“I thought you were helping her.” Mum pressed, accusingly.
Henry didn't reply, he just took the papers and glanced at them.
His expression shifted from bewilderment to worry, then finally sadness.
He exhaled heavily, rubbing his temples.
“I wasn't aware—”
“You weren't aware.” Mum bit back, cutting him off.
“You're her bloody lecturer, Henry.”
His lips pressed into a thin line.
“I'm sorry, Denise. I will address the situation properly.”
Mum turned away from us, closing her eyes briefly. “I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have yelled at you.”
“It's my fault—”
“No Henry,” Mum shook her head, turning back to him. “Please don't, it's not like I paid you to be her tutor or something.”
“But—”
She held his face, gently.
“It's not your fault, I have been neglecting my duties as a mother too.”
Henry smiled softly. “You've just been busy, Denise.”
“Too busy to even talk to my daughter to know what's going on with her?” she said, staring at me.
I turned my gaze to the floor.
“I-I just… I don't know what to do,” she stuttered, her voice breaking slightly.
I glanced at her, heart constricting with guilt.
“I can't do this on my own—”
Henry wrapped his arms around her, as she broke down sobbing quietly.
I, on the other hand, just sat there staring at both of them quietly.
Quite ironic, seeing as I wanted him to hold me like that too.
- Writer
