Bullsh-t

I hate love stories. Any novel or book that starts with "I hate love stories" I shrug off and mumble "bullshit." I hate the fake love scene where they obsess over this "Perfect guy" and always screamed about how the girl was smart and pretty, but what I hate more was the stories that pretended they weren't such bullshit.
You see these romance stories all the time, he saw her and she saw him and it was perfect. He was handsome she was beautiful and everyone thought they were perfect. She was scared, but he new what to say because the world is perfect like that.

I'm calling Bullshit.

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5. The Aftermath

5 minutes of practice and four songs later the Cadet choir filed back into their seats. Thankfully not a singel girl touched her hair, and we did in fact have facial expressions this year. Of course there was some mistakes such as the lack of excitment in our voice. I always thought stage performances were weird because no matter weither your singing, dancing, acting, or whatever there is always something to improve.

Thankfully for a few heat exhausted students we were allowed to wonder outside the church if the heat was too much. If you've ever been weighted down by a robe, and stuffed in a church filled with people all on a bright sunny day you know what I mean when I say I needed OUT. The minute my choir was dismissed I headed straight for the door. Summer was coming up soon, yet there was still a cool breeze out there.

I took a heavy breath and relaxed on a cold stone bench. There was a few black robed students out there, but they were too busy chatting to notice me. It felt nice to be outside despite the burning sun. The skies were blue and the tree began to regain their green leaves. It was as if the world was reminding every weary student that summer was coming. Though the few relaxing moments on that bench were short lived when I notice Jacob sitting next to me. It was weird that I didn't even hear him come outside.

Before I could even react Jacob blurted, "I'm sorry." His eyes were staring past the concert path and his voice was quiet. "I'm really sorry. I shouldn't have took you as that kind of person. I really have liked you for a while. I wish you didn't find out like this though . . ."

There was a long awkward pause while the breeze pushed my blonde hair. We watched the other student chatter away with goofy smiles. I guess I understand where he was coming from. I've seen first hand what hormones can make a guy do, but still it doesn't make this right. "You know that still doesn't make it right." the words slipped through my lips.

He nodded before saying, "I know, and I know I probably messed up this friendship . . . or whatever you call it." I let out a small laugh. Jacob had a point. This relationship was strange from the first place. "You at least understand when things get rough in a relationship right?"

The question caught me off gaurd, and I found myself studying Jacobs face for a few minutes. He looked anxious to know he wasn't alone. Why was he so worried? I gave him a nod with a half smile on my face. It isn't easy when the one you trust most starts to hurt you. Just last night Dakota snapped at me again. I should've saw it coming with me constantly asking why he hasn't been on facebook. Honestly, I wouldn't care either way if it wasn't the only way we could talk to each other, but every time I ask how his day is he just . . . explodes. He accuses me of trying to catch him doing something wrong; he says the same when I ask why he hasn't been online lately with the addition of ordering me to stop whinning.

"That's not right." Jacobs voice shocked me for a moment. His brown eyes were even darker and he had the most worried look on his face I've ever seen. Was I talking out loud this whole time? "Honestly," Jacob added, "If a guy suddenly jumps to the idea you're trying to catch him doing something he's probably doing something. Also, if my mom ever caught me telling my girlfriend to quite whinning I would never see the light of day."

 

"You're kidding." I laughed.

Jacob shook his head, "That's Southern parenting."

It was weird admitting everything to him as if he didn't try to get me to have sex with him. Jacob is the guy from my speech class who plays bass guitar and secretly calls Mrs. Grace Mrs. Greasy. This guy asking me to get on his knees for him, this cheater, is not Jacob. That's not who Jacob is.

"What's going on with you?" The question broke past my sealed lips.

Jacob stared blankly for a moment. It was as if no one asked him that before. He cleared his throat and stared at the ground again. "I-um . . . It's been a long time since I've had sex, and I'd be ok with it if Kathrine wouldn't stop teasing me."

"Kathrine?"

"Kat." He explained, "My girlfriend."

I shook my head, "If you want to wait to have sex you shouldn't torrture the person you're with."

He let out a small painful smile. Not the kind of smile when you hear something heartfelt or funny, but the kind of smile that touches your lips when you notice how many scars you have. "Yeah," he said a little breathless.

"Why don't you just leave her?" it was a simple question, yet he stared took a heavy breath and sat in silence for a few minutes. The only sounds were the giggly students and a robin tweeting away.

Finally his silence broke, "Kathrine always told me that I should be grateful that she likes me, and I am. She tells me that no one really wants to date me, and everyone finds me more annoying than anything." The story was all too familar. Bad memories can infect your mind like the black pleague. My mind was a bank with records upon records of a broken and twisted past. I couldn't rid the image of those startling blue eyes glaring at me. They followed me down the hallways, they followed me down the road, they follow me out of the bedroom. Those bright blue eyes accompanied by that sinsiter smile reminding me what they got away with. "Are you ok?" Jacobs dark brown eyes studdied my face once again with a worried look. Just like that the ice blue eyes melted away.

"Yeah." I brushed my hair back, "Yeah I'm sorry. What else were you saying?"

Jacob hesitated before going on, "Well Kathrine won't let me see my friends anymore, or talk to them even. She keeps telling me that they just want to break us up."

"You think if all your friends are trying to get you to leave a girl there might be a good reason behind it?" I asked with a confused look on my face.

Jacob looked cross, "Why would they want me to leave her?"

I was sacred what the answer would be when I asked, "Well . . . what happens when you don't listen to her?"

"She'd yell at me. Sometimes she'd slap me, or punch me in the stomach. I don't hit her back because my mom always said a man should never hit-"

I didn't even have a moment to restrain myself before the words dropped like a blindfold, "Jacob, that's abuse." He looked at me with a mixture of shock, pain, and confusion in his eyes. I learned first hand that the hardest thing about an abusive relationship is realizing that you're being abused. Though in a way it feels like you always knew. The reason abusers issolate their lovers is to keep people from telling them the dark truths they need to hear.

 

"Jacob . . . she's abusing you."

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