Breaking Free

"I'm not through with you, you little bitch," rings through my head, over and over again on the ride home. I can't believe my father had found me. He seems to be stalking me or something.
"What are we going to do?" I ask Debra when we pull into the driveway at home.
"We're going to call the cops and let them know what happened and then we're going to continue our night like nothing happened. Go upstairs and put on something pretty so we can go to dinner!" Debra says excitedly but I can tell that she's worried deep down.
I run upstairs to the bedroom and forget to knock and walk right in through the door.
"Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry!" I exclaim, my cheeks turning bright red at the sight in front of me.
Jackson is pulling on a pair of pants over a pair of boxer briefs and I can see the scars on his back more prominently.
"Don't worry about it, I probably should hang a sock on the doorknob so you know I'm changing," he laughs.
I look at him confused.
"Oh, it's something that's in a lot of shows and movies, a sock on the door means the room is occupied."
"Oh, okay," I say, I'm still beet red.
"Don't be so embarrassed, it could have happened to either of us," Jackson laughs.
"Uh," I trail off, I have no words. He's beautiful.
"Something wrong?"
"I'm sure you'll hear about it soon enough," I say walking over to the bed and dropping my bags on the floor in front of it.
I climb onto the bed and sit cross-legged and Jackson crawls into the bed beside me.
"What's wrong?"
"He was there,"
"Where?" Jackson asks furiously.
"At the mall."
"Did he hurt you?"
"Not really."
"By not really do you mean yes, you just don't want me getting pissed off?"
"Yes," I say with tears pricking in the corner of my eyes.
"What did he do?"
"He grabbed a hold of my arm and tried to force me into the truck, but luckily Debra was there and she pepper sprayed him before anything else could happen," I say quickly. "She should be on the phone with the cops right now."
"That son of a bitch," Jackson mutters under his breath. "I promised you he wouldn't hurt you anymore and here this happens, why did you guys have to leave without me?"
It sounds like more of a rhetorical question so I don't answer it.
"Did he leave any marks?" Jackson asks, his voice tender and full of meaning.
"I don't know, it's probably red," I hold my arm out and pull up my sleeve so that Jackson can see the marks on my arm.
"That's going to bruise," Jackson says.
"I can wear something to cover it up," I say.
"You shouldn't have to cover bruises, don't you see that?" Jackson asks and his tone throws me off balance, he sounds so angry and I know it's not directed at me but I can't help but be frightened by angry Jackson.
"I know I shouldn't have to, but these things are going to happen until we figure everything out," I say shaking my head in disbelief.
"It's not alright."
"I know it's not."
"Then why are you acting like it is?"
"I'm not, I'm just so used to making up excuses!" I yell.
"Whoa, that's the most emotion I've seen from you, Lina, other than tears, those you're good at. I want to see that passion. I know what we're doing tomorrow."
"What?" I ask confused.
"We're going boxing."
"No." I say.
"Yes, yes we are and you're going to come willingly because I'm going to teach you to kick someone's ass if need be," Jackson smiles from ear to ear.
His emotions are utterly dizzying. I can't keep his happy from his angry and then his excited. All in the span of less than ten minutes.
"I need to get dressed," I tell him. "Should I put a sock on the door?"
Jackson laughs heartily. "Of course not, I know you're in here now."
He leaves the room and quietly shuts the door behind him.
I pull out a tee shirt, it's a light red, not quite pink color and I match it with a pair of light wash flare leg jeans.
I pull them on over top of a new pair of panties and a bra that Debra had gotten me while I was browsing in one store. She picked the right size, almost like she was born to shop.
I feel pretty.
I pull my hair back into a ponytail and walk down to Debra's room.
I knock on the door and she graciously lets me in.
"What did the cops say?"
"That there is nothing they can do because we left," she answers.
"Well, that sucks," I say rolling my eyes.
"Tell me about it!"
"I need makeup help," I say nervously.
"I'm at your service," Debra says with a small curtsy.
Debra pulls out a large case full of different kinds of makeup. Eye makeup and full face, even stuff for your hair. I'm amazed at how many beauty products she has in that case without spilling over.
Almost expertly, Debra uses different things on my face, ending with an eyeliner pencil she uses to outline my eyes.
I look in the mirror when she's finished and I gasp. My eyes look greener and somehow the shirt makes my hair look even brighter.
I feel beautiful.