Hello, Mother–1
The next few days are a blur.
They all mesh together and I can only say that I’ve eaten and gotten out of bed because of Zaid’s careful encouragement.
I avoid my phone like the plague. I don’t even dare to turn on the T.V., unwilling to see the chaos that’s unfolding online.
Back in Florida, it was like a wildfire. Once people at my school found out about what happened, it turned for the worst. People would look at me as they whispered in the corners with their friends.
Some students that I had never even talked to, were doing interviews, or posting videos about how they know the girl that survived that terrible crash. It was a constant reminder that my life had been torn apart.
I imagine the same will happen here, and it might be worst. There was no doubt that I was a victim in Florida, but when it comes to things like this, women have been villianized more than once.
Zaid, Aiden and Jake have been accommodating. They don’t bring it up and I’ve been able to stay in my bubble. They’re attentive physically, their touches taking me out of reality.
Last night was a good one, and I wake up in our bedroom this morning with satisfaction between my legs. The giant bed swallows me whole and I frown when I notice that I’m
alone.
The silk nightgown clings to me as I shift, my skin prickling beneath it.
I hear the water running in the en–suite bathroom. Poking my head in, I find Zaid under the stream, head bowed, hands braced against the tiles. My mouth waters at the sight of his back, his ass, those toned legs.
I don’t disturb him, though. He’s been beside me non stop and he deserves a moment or
two to himself. I slip out of the room and head downstairs, needing water.
As I reach the bottom step, I pause. Jake is standing in front of the TV, shirtless, his back muscles straining, his posture rigid. He’s only wearing sweats, the waistband riding low
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Hello, Mother–1
on his hips, but it’s the tension rolling off of him that makes my stomach knot.
I step closer, peering over his shoulder, and my breath catches in my throat. The news is
- on.
A reporter is talking about Mr. Admas, but my gaze is immediately drawn to the screen where Sadie sits across from them, speaking animatedly with a smile on her face. I hear my name before I even fully process the words.
She’s questioning my honesty. My testimony about what happened that night.
My breath stutters out of me in a sharp gasp.
Jake turns at the sound, his expression darkening before he immediately shuts the T.V. off. He moves toward me, cupping my face, his thumbs gently wiping at tears I didn’t realize had spilled.
“What-” I whisper, but I don’t know how to finish the sentence.
“I’m sorry, baby,” he murmurs, his voice low. “It’s okay. It’ll be okay.”
I shake my head. “I don’t—I can’t—”
The panic is clawing up my throat, threatening to unravel me. I don’t want to fall apart. So I do the only thing I can think of to drown it out. The only thing that has been helping the darkness in my mind.
I kiss him.
Jake doesn’t hesitate. He lifts me and walks, setting me on the counter, his hands gripping my thighs as his lips move against mine. I sink into it, into the safety of him, into the way his fingers tangle in my hair, tugging just hard enough to make my body hum with
distraction.
He pulls away, looking down at me as he pulls my head back until I’m hissing. “Alina. I don’t think this is a good idea.”
I shake my head, a panic attack on the precipice of my mind. I don’t want to fall apart. “Please. just let me forget for right now, please.”
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