A Protector's Touch by Parker Sinclair

Author:Parker Sinclair [Sinclair, Parker]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Rawlings Books, LLC via Indie Author Project
Published: 2019-05-19T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 10

I Know

~

It seems like an hour of waiting passes by while I wait to speak to a campus officer before I finally leave, opting to get some advice from my group leader, Kathy, instead. Something didn’t feel right as I sat there, like I was being put off. Like they knew why I was there and whom I was reporting. Now I’m not a conspiracy nut—okay, maybe a little—but I had been cautioned before, so who wouldn’t be suspicious?

Said suspicions are confirmed when I spy the soccer coach marching across the campus lawn toward the security building as I slip behind a tree. I am in over my head here, stuck in a circle of lies and cover-ups, just like Nicole Bends, Shan’s mother.

At that, I run. I run harder than I can remember ever running before, but maybe that’s because my feet seem to be digging into rocky mud or nearly hardened cement. Regardless of if my mind is playing tricks on me or not, I’m back in my room, kneeling in front of my toilet before I even realize I’ve made it that far.

“What am I going to do?”

Tears come next. Followed by the creaking of the door and a “Hello? April.”

Oh shit, Shan.

Shooting my foot out, I slam the bathroom door closed with a wince. My muscles scream at the sudden awkward movement and the lactic acid built up in their fibers.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to just walk in. I saw the door open and I got…well, I figured you were just chilling.” Shan’s response to a door literally being slammed in his face can be read like a book.

Well, he’s not wrong. Something is up.

“I-I just need a minute,” I say between silent gasps of air. Air to push down my rising nausea and unease.

“I can leave if this isn’t a good…”

“No,” I yell, interrupting him. “No, please stay. I’ll be right out.”

What choice do I have—I mean, really? Either way, he’s going to be put off. Somehow. Someway. At least this way I have some control.

When I come to standing, the reflection that greets me doesn’t find my choice to be a good one.

Whoa, your hair. Your shirt. Your…

“Okay, I get it.” My teeth clamp down on my lip before I can talk to myself some more.

“What was that?”

“Nothing,” I sing.

I need to get myself together, bring all of those pieces of me that were scattered by the raw realization that control and power win over truth. The power of the athletic department, of the soccer team, of Derrick’s money, it all matters more than what one girl has to say about the horrors their prince has bestowed upon her behind closed doors. At least the doors were closed, and no one saw. But that also means that there isn’t any proof.

But there is.

The eyes in the mirror freeze, refocus, and then a furrow in my brow smooths to allow my eyes to narrow.

With newfound realization coming to light, I get my shit together. By shit, I mean my askew hair and crumpled clothes, and my diminished posture.

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