The Player

Chapter 26

Brielle

5:45 AM

"Turn off the alarm Sam."

"Uh-huh," she grumbled half-heartedly, reaching over and beating down on my alarm clock. I sleepily

rubbed my eyes, my throbbing headache greeting me.

"Ow," I mumbled, trying my hardest to sit up but my pounding head impeded me. I glanced at the clock

before letting out a long groan. Today I would have to face my school.

Fighting against my instinct to lay back down and forget about today, I rose from my bed and began to

get ready. I picked a sweater and a pair of baggy sweatpants to wear in an attempt to feel less exposed

than I already did.

Before I knew it, Sam and I were driving towards the school. My pulse spiked as I felt all the anxiety

from the day before hitting me.

I can't do this.

Sam seemed to sense my panic as she turned towards me. "Everything is going to be okay."

I half-heartedly nodded, not truly believing it myself. I wasn't just nervous about the pictures being

released, but I was also anxious about facing Christopher after what he did to me.

Once my mind wandered on the topic, an inescapable thought crossed my mind. What if he had seen

the pictures? I covered my mouth in horror, trying not to let my tears leak past my eyes.

"Brielle, we don't have to do this," Sam reassured me. "We can go home right now, just say the word." I

wanted so badly to take the offer, but I resisted. I had to face my problems eventually.

"I can do this."

When we finally parked, I felt as though I would nearly faint. My knees buckled as I tried to get out of

the car, causing me to almost trip on my own two feet. I quickly recovered and wiped my clammy hands

on my sweat pants.

Almost immediately as I walked into the school, I felt all eyes on me. I had felt this feeling only once

before, when Christopher and I were first dating, but this felt ten times worse. The gazes were harsh

and judgmental. I could almost hear all the names that they were calling me.

I turned my gaze to my shoes, not wanting to focus on the attention. The hallways grew quiet as I

passed through. I heard the hushed whisper of a couple of football players followed by loud laughter,

and I already knew that I was the punchline.

I fought back my tears, not wanting to give people the satisfaction of seeing me cry. Despite my choice

of clothing I still felt naked. No amount of sweatshirts or sweatpants would change that. I just couldn't

shake the feeling that everyone had seen me at my most vulnerable without my consent.

I let out a sigh of relief when Sam and I finally reached our lockers. I pressed my forehead on the cool

metal, trying to calm myself down.

"That wasn't so hard was it?' Sam asked softly.

"It was awful."

She pouted, pulling me into a hug. "I know, but I promise that in time it will get better. It always does."

I nodded my head as I entered my combination. As I yanked my locker open I felt my stomach drop.

Inside was practically a memorial of Christopher and I's relationship. Pictures of us smiling hung on the

locker suspended my magnets. Sitting on the top shelf was a teddy bear that he gave me and the

leftover candy from last week. I reached for the old card that rested on top, opening it.

Dear Brielle,

I think people are getting suspicious of who keeps sending you all the presents. We should only limit

communication to notes for security purposes. I've also created code names to disguise our identities.

From now on, I'll address you as TheMostBeautifulGirl and I'll address myself as TheLuckiestGuy to

maintain our secret. Destroy this note when you're finished.

P.S. We're still on for tonight right?

My heart stopped as I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. I remember when he gave me this note. He

slipped it discretely in my bag as he walked past me, enjoying our game of pretending to be undercover

agents a little too well.

I felt more tears swell in the back of my eyes. I missed his playfulness.

Suddenly, Sam reached for the card, snatching it out of my hand. "It's not good for you to read this."

She said, placing the note in her locker. "And as your best friend it's my job to help you get over him."

As much as I hated to admit it, she was right. If I kept focusing on what me and Christopher had, I

would never move on. He betrayed me, and I couldn't let how sweet he was make me forget that.

I closed my locker door to reveal Christopher behind it, waiting for me. I let out a gasp as I scanned him

over. He looked awful.

His clothes were wrinkled, his usually lively face was pale, and his hair was even more messy than it

was regularly. But what really shocked me was the giant purple bruise around his eye and the cut on

his upper lip. It had been obvious that he had been in a fight.

Before I could even process the information, Sam stepped in front of me, blocking him from me. "You

should leave." She demanded. "Now."

"Please, I just need to talk to her," he pleaded, stepping aside Sam so that he was in my range of view.

His eyes stared into mine. "Please."

Sam began to tell him to leave but I cut her off, wanting to hear what he had to say. "It's okay Sam."

She turned towards me, searching my eyes for any hesitation. "Are you sure?" I firmly nodded my

head.

She gave Christopher one last glare before walking away. An awkward silence fell between us as

neither of us knew what to say. After a few moments, I broke it.

"What happened to your face?"

He rubbed his finger over the cut on his lip, seemingly just remembering that it was there. "It's nothing."

My eyes shot him a glare. "Who did you fight?" I pressed.

He hesitated before answering. "No one who didn't deserve it."

My voice grew soft. "Was it Derrick?" His silence gave me the confirmation that I needed. "You didn't

have to do that."

His eyes grew hard. "After what he did to you I couldn't just let him get off scotch free." He reached

over for my hand and grabbed it. I felt a pang in my chest when I noticed his bruised knuckles, each

brandished with tiny cuts.

The pang was quickly replaced with burning anger. After what he did to me, I couldn't believe that he

was pretending to be my knight in shining armor.

"I don't need anyone to protect me. Especially not you." I yanked my arm away. "At least I knew that I

couldn't trust Derrick."

While at one point I had trusted him, I knew how conniving and evil he could be. But Christopher fooled

me completely, and that hurt much more. I would much rather be stabbed in the front than in the back.

"Brielle, please."

"Please, what?" I snapped.

He ran his fingers through his hair, the way that he always did when something was bothering him. I

used to love when he did that.

"Just let me explain." He took my silence as invitation to continue.

"Last night, I couldn't eat or sleep knowing that I caused you so much pain."

I rolled my eyes. "Am I supposed to feel bad for you, because I don't." I interrupted. I tried my hardest

to mask the pain in my voice.

"No, I don't deserve your pity. Not after what I did."

He was right about one thing.

"It's just that, when I heard what happened..." his voice cracked. "I just couldn't handle that there was

something else causing you so much hurt."

I mustered up all the anger inside me. "Well maybe if you didn't hurt me in the first place we wouldn't be

having this problem." He didn't deserve to play the victim in this, not after what he did.

He let out a sigh, locking his eyes onto mine in an intense stare. "I fucked up, and I understand if you

never want to talk to me again. But I miss you."

"Before I was just arrogant and entitled. I always thought that things would just come to me." He smiled

sadly. "And then I met you, and you made me someone that I'm proud to be."

He reached for my hands again, and this time I let him.

"I don't want to be that guy again Brielle." As I looked at his face, his expression one of genuine

sincerity, I knew that he was telling the truth. "Please. I need you."

And in that moment, I wanted nothing more than to forgive him. To forget everything that he did, that he

was planning to do, and to wrap myself in his arms. I wanted to so badly, but I knew I couldn't.

The Christopher that I knew wasn't the guy in front of me, bruised and battered. He wasn't the kind of

guy that would lie to my face every day repeatedly, without a second thought. My Christopher was the

one who patiently taught me how to surf and rode on pink dirt bikes. This is from NôvelDrama.Org.

He was kind and gentle and understanding. He was perceptive and remembered things that even I

forgot. My Christopher would never hurt me. I knew the Christopher standing in front of me today as

much as I knew the stranger who passed by me on the street. And if I took him back, I would be taking

back the memory of him, just a fantasy that no longer holds true.

And out of everything that had happened to me, that's what hurts the most.

"It's too late," I said, tugging my hands from his. "You already are."

And even though it was the hardest thing I ever had to do in my life, I walked away.