Foto bij Ten

Don't be a silent reader!

I wake up with a start. Disoriented, my eyes squint under the harsh glare of the sun, before my eyes widen. Holy crap, itís morning! Iím late! I look around me, wondering where I am until I remember what happened last night.
Justin. He tried to violate me. He couldíve hurt me, yet he stopped. I donít know what happened to him, but Iím glad he stopped. I donít think Iíd be able to live if he went all the way last night.
I see a yellow note on the coffee table next to the bed and I pick it up.
ĎEat breakfast!í It says. My lips curl into a smile. Thatís so him. He likes to get straight to the point. I like the kind of guy who speaks out his mind. I prefer that over charming men. Charming men are more cunning, as if they practice saying the pick-up lines in front of the bathroom mirror.
Justin is awkward and his words are never charming. Theyíre like bullets that can stab you. Buy theyíre the truth. Heís real and not fake like many of the guys I met at the night club. Not that I like Justin, of course. Heís still a prick.
I look to find a tray of food waiting for me on the table. I frown in confusion. Is it to make up for what he did last night? I slip away from the bed and grab a croissant. I munch on it as I look around his neat room.
Thereís another maid dress hanging on the chair to change into. His room is neatly furnished and thereís a line of awards in the glass cabinet. Thereís a football behind the glass door too. So he plays football. No wonder his body is packed full of hard musclesÖ
Shaking my head, I approach the desk by the window, looking for anything that can make me understand him. But the pens are neatly in place and the notepads are empty. I fiddle around with the drawers, closing them shut when all I see are neat envelopes, and some books.
Judging from all the books, he must be interested in the law. He doesnít look like a lawyer to me. He looks like a dangerous mobster who smuggles weapons. Heís more of a criminal then a guy siding with the law.
Iím about to close the bottom drawer when I notice the back of a photo frame. I pick it up and flip it to see the photo. My heart quickens a beat when I see Justin, smiling, with his arm around a tall woman. I never seen him look so carefree, so happy. This must be the girl he loved so much. The one who left him.
I donít like her for some reason. Tall, long wavy black hair, and big breasts. She has that sweet innocent look that I know plenty of guys are into. I think about how opposite I am to her. Iím kind of small, and I played tennis a lot, so my arms are pretty muscular. Iím a red-head, which makes people think that Iím short-tempered. I donít wear as much make-up as she does and my face is hardly innocent. I frown too much and my eyes are filled with distrust. Wait, why am I comparing myself to her?
I study the picture again, my eyes on Justin. He looked younger in this photo. Heís smile is beautiful, like he doesnít have a care in the world. I donít see him smile now. The current Justin is someone who hates the world and everyone in it. Itís all because of her.
Justin had longer hair in the photo. Now, his hair is much shorter. I like his hair now. Shorter hair brings out the gold in his eyes. What am I doing?
I act like an obsessive girlfriend rummaging through his things! Ugh, I donít understand myself at all. I hate him! He treats me like Iím beneath him. But when he wrapped his arm around me, my heart warmed a little. I had never been hugged that way before. It was like his warmth could make me whole. And if felt safe, finding someone is taking care of me.
For the first time, I wasnít someone who had to take care of everything. I felt free, like an ordinary girl. Putting the photo frame back to where it belongs, I close the drawer.

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