Caged Birds Don't Like to Sing

I woke up from my light, on and off slumber to find myself on the cold kitchen floor. Every time I woke up, I hoped that it would all just be a nightmare and I would be up in my cozy bed. Looking down at my blood soaked shirt and the stained kitchen floor, I realized that wasn’t the case.

I crawled around on the floor, one hand over my wound, until I reached the edge of the counter. I reached my hand up and pulled myself up using all my strength. I clenched my teeth and the pain of the cut reopening. Once I was up, I took both hands and held onto my stomach. It burned my whole abdomen while I whined in complete agony.

Looking behind me, the digital clock on the oven said it was almost twelve. It gave me just enough time to clean myself up before Jackson got here. Unless he was planning on staying out there longer.

Speaking of the devil, the phone started to ring. I stumbled over, hand still wrapped around my stomach, and picked it up from the receiver.

“Hello,” I answered, already having the idea that it was Jackson. My voice came out hoarse and weary. I prayed that he wouldn’t notice.

“Sorry, did I just wake you up? You sound tired,” he asked, concerned. After a moment, but before I could say anything, he added on, “Is everything okay?”

It was just like Jackson to start jumping to conclusions even when there wasn’t a problem. I guess this time he was right, though. But I wasn’t going to let him know anything that happened last night. He couldn’t find out, he wouldn’t ever leave me alone again.

“Yeah,” I said reassuringly as I ironically looked over to the disaster zone of a kitchen. “Everything's just fine. I was just sleeping.” I’m glad he said the waking me up part. It helped as a cover up.

“Oh. Alright.” The tone of his voice seemed still cautious.

“When will you be back?” I asked, changing the subject.

“Probably around two. I’m on my way home right now.”

I looked back at the clock to make sure I had the time right. “Okay.” That should give me enough time.

“See you then, darlin’,” he said happily.

“Bye.” I hung up the phone after that.

After trudging up the stairs and grabbing towels, I turned on the shower and got in. The warm water made my cut sting all over. I let the water run on it for another moment, wincing at the pain. I told myself I had to clean it out or go to the hospital. And one of those were not an option. The shower did give me a chance to examine it. It trailed from just under my left ribcage down to a little past my belly button in a diagonal, jagged way. It was huge, but thankfully wasn’t too deep.

I poked it. It wasn’t the best idea since it hasn’t fully scabbed and it was wet. I bloody trickle of water ran down my leg and turned the water at the bottom a pale pink. I yipped and continued to wash my hair as fast as possible. Then, when I washed by body, I was careful around the open cut. The soap suds ran down into it and tingled.

Which brought up another difficult part; drying off. I didn’t want to towel dry my stomach, so I dried off my legs and arms. Then wrapped the towel around my midsection.

I looked down at the clothing on the ground. They were blood soaked. I picked them up and went to the kitchen, dripping water off of my body the whole way. Under the sink were where we kept the garbage bags. I used one to toss the clothes in. Then I took them out front into the trash cans. I guess I couldn’t wear those again.

One of the best things about living in the middle of nowhere was the fact that we didn’t have any neighbors. I could walk outside in just a towel and there was no one who could watch me as I made my way to the trashcan or to the mailbox.

It took me some time, but I got ready. I just tried to move as little as possible so the cut wouldn’t open up again. Jackson didn’t have any band-aids so I had to leave it open.I couldn’t really look around much because I hated walking. The gash limited my movements because I didn’t want another bloody shirt.

I checked my phone. It was almost two. Jackson had sent me a text me saying, ‘Be there soon.’

I felt rushed, but I was done getting ready. I slowly walked downstairs and into the kitchen. I mopped the floors to get my blood off of it. That sounds weird, doesn’t it? Well, it definitely felt weird to be cleaning my blood. It should have remained in my body where it belonged.

Then I remembered. The stir fry was in the fridge. I wanted to make it seem like nothing had happened last night so I quickly pulled it out and scooped out a few spoonfuls into the sink and ran the garbage disposal. I put the Tupperware back in the fridge and sighed. Everything seemed semi normal. Or at least appeared to be normal.

I sat around in the kitchen lazily and spun in the chair. I was playing some dumb apps on my cell phone to pass the time and tried to act normal. Because before I knew it, Jackson was stepping in through the front door.

“Hey!” I heard him call from the front door. I poked my head up from the screen of my phone. I had a feeling he was expecting me to rush to the door, but there was no way I was going to be able to handle that.

“I’m in the kitchen!” I called back. I was weary of the cut and didn’t want it to burst. I just got it to a point where it seemed stable. I set my phone back down.

I heard him come up behind me. I stood up and hugged him tightly. He smiled broadly and pecked the side of my face. There was a slight pinch from his body against the cut, but I didn’t think much of it. It didn’t hurt too bad and it didn’t feel like it was tearing open. And I loved having Jackson back after the horrible night that I had experienced.

When he let go, he pecked my lips. “Nice to have you back,” I said, breathing out a huge sigh of relief.

“Nice to be back.” He seemed exhausted. He had on his glasses again instead of contacts. His hair was a little frazzled out. I imagined that he slept in the car.

I watched him move around the kitchen. As I scanned, I caught a white towel with red splattered all over it. I felt my eyes widen and I quickly darted over. Jackson’s back was turned and he was looking in the fridge.

“You ate some of the stir fry,” he pointed out. He picked up the box and examined it. I had the idea that he knew something was up. He was just looking over everything to see if something was out of the ordinary.

“Uh-huh,” I lied. I grabbed the towel and hid it behind my back just in case he’d turn around. I skittered around for a second and tossed it in the trash. He looked up when the trash can’s lid slammed shut.

His eyes were locked on my face and he was smiling. I smiled back, still nervous on the inside that he would figure out somehow.

“Something is fishy around here,” he said smoothly, gliding around me. He made a little circle around my body and inspected me. I slightly trembled with nerves.

“Fishy?” I scoffed. “What could be fishy?”

“I don’t know,” he mumbled. Once he was facing me again, his eyes scrutinized my face. I smiled like an idiot. “Hmm,” he finally said. “Want to go watch a movie?”

I’ve been watching movies all of last night, well most of last night, but I agreed. The less movement, the better. He couldn’t figure out anything during a movie.

He picked out something from the selection on the rack beside the T.V. I wasn’t sure what it was, but I watched anyway. It seemed interesting.

After a while into it, Jackson became a little antsy, like always. I gulped when his hand slid around my waist and pulled me close. Why now? He turned his face towards me. I kept my eyes glued to the screen and seemed not to notice as I chewed on the inside of my lips nervously. But I kept him locked in my peripherals. His lips grazed my throat. I bit down harder on my lip. I placed my hand on his shoulder and tried to push him away.

“I missed you,” he murmured alluringly. He didn’t move an inch from my shove.

I felt his hand pet up my side and lightly turn me towards him. He body sat itself on top of my hips. He was just straddling my hips like it was something normal. Like we were somehow now a normal couple. But we still weren’t. The relationship was still arranged. He’s still a celebrity and I’m still a nobody. He still has a life and I’m now trapped here. For some strange reason this all just started to bug me again.

He pressed his body against mine, grinning erotically. There was immense pressure on my cut and I made a crying noise. Jackson noticed and looked down at me, seeming to be disturbed by it. I did a fake, cheesy smile and tried to make it seem like it was okay. I didn’t think he bought it because usually I’d be telling him to get off. I guess I didn’t think of that at first. Good thing I’m not the actor in this relationship.

He ignored it after a second and pressed his lips on my neck. They trailed a little lower. After a second, he pulled away. “What’s this?” I looked down and he was pointing to the cut on my collarbone.

I forgot about that one. Shit.

“Uh,” I stammered for a second, thinking up an idea. “Dean scratched my on accident.”

“Dean’s de-clawed,” Jackson noted skeptically. He narrowed his eyes and raised an eyebrow. I face palmed in my mind.

“Oh, that’s right,” I hesitated with a sheepish chuckle, looking away from his glare. “He bit me.”

His eyes trailed down my whole body. I stared at his eyes, internally scared for him to catch something. Unfortunately, they did. I noticed when his eyes grew wider.

“D-Did you spill something on you?” He stuttered cautiously. He looked at my stomach again. Then tugged his shirt out so he could see it more clearly. He had a light red stain on the front of it. It was from him pressing against me. I started to panic.

Frantically, he ripped the front of my shirt up. It revealed the gash on my stomach. “Oh and I guess Dean did that, too?” He hissed, but was concerned. His glare was cold and hard. It made me even more anxious than I already was.

“Look,” I started to explain. Jackson slid off of me, clearly upset with me.

“I thought we weren’t gonna lie to each other, Marissa,” he retorted and closed his eyes in frustration. When he opened them back up, he commanded, “Lay back.”

“Why?” I hastened.

“Don’t flatter yourself.”

I leaned back and he got off the couch. He was kneeling beside it and looked at the cut. It was bloody and the skin was red around it. It scared me that it might have been infected, but it was probably just trying to heal. His finger traced over it. I yelped and swatted his hand off.

“I just didn’t think it was a big deal,” I admitted.

He threw his arms up in exasperation. “That what was a big deal? What really happened yesterday night?”

My mind was scattered all over the place as it searched for excuses. “I was just cooking and I guess I left a knife out and--”

Jackson interrupted, his face was unamused and definitely wasn’t buying what I was trying to sell. “Marissa.”

I tugged my shirt back down and I rubbed over my cut, trying to get it to clot again. I guess I couldn’t wear this shirt again either. I looked away from him to avoid eye contact. “Someone came in last night and attacked me.”

His face changed immediately. “Who? How?” Jackson got closer and held onto my shoulders and leaned over me. His expression was distraught. “Are you okay? What happened? I’ll murder them.”

He took my body even closer. He pulled out both of my arms and searched for cuts. Then tugged on my legs. I was already in pajama shorts so he didn’t need to roll up my pant legs. “Jackson, quit it,” I groaned.

He ignored me. One hand pushed my head down and bent me over. My head was under his arm. He lifted up the back of my shirt and looked around for more cuts. I was fine. It was just there and my collarbone.

His fingers searched through my hair. “And the back of your head has a big goose egg on it.”

I forgot about that part as well.

He took a hold on my shoulders once more. He pushed me back up so we were face-to-face. “What happened?” he asked again.

“I’m not sure,” I lied even more. I felt guilty about it, but I couldn’t tell him. Not yet. He didn’t even know the half of it and I didn’t want to have to dump it on him now. He just got home. I wanted this to go smoothly.

“So someone randomly broke into our house and stabbed you, then left?” He asked suspiciously.

“Well yeah,” I muttered. “Don’t most incidents happen like that?”

He ran his fingers through his hair in thought. “I think I have some medical tape or bandage somewhere.” He stood up to go find it.

I sighed when he left. I felt just awful for lying. Especially because I had called him out on it before and threw a hissy fit about it. But this was something more personal to me. And I’d tell him eventually. Just not now.

I took a heavy swallow when he came back. He knelt beside me again. “Up,” he directed.

I obeyed and sat up. He wrapped the bandage around my body tightly. It felt better to know that it was safe and didn’t have germs getting to it. He tugged it tightly when he was done and patted it down so it stuck.

“Better?” he murmured. I nodded.

“Thanks.”

He sat beside me and I leaned against him. He didn’t move and kept his arms crossed. It made me feel even worse about the situation. I stared up at him.

“Don’t try to cover it up next time and lie about it,” he stated seriously. “That could have gotten bad.”

“I’m sorry,” I said apologetically. I was still lying. He just didn’t know it yet. I knew he would be even angrier when he found out. But I couldn’t bring myself to talk about it now.

“It’s fine. I’m just glad you’re okay,” he exhaled. He still seemed very frustrated.

I didn’t really know what to say by that point. I sighed lightly, hoping he’d catch on and say something. But he didn’t. He bitterly kept watching the movie. I kept staring at him, trying to read his face for any sign of him letting up.

“What?” He jeered, finally looking down at me. His eyes were still hard.

I still didn’t know what to say. Which is pretty pathetic on my part. I usually had no filter on my mouth. When it came to Jackson, I was different. I almost had nothing to say because I didn’t want to screw something up. It was awful, really.

I used his shirt as leverage and sat up. I pressed my lips to his. I waited for something. He didn’t move his hands, move his head, or anything. He didn’t even kiss back. His lips were still.

Pulling away, I exasperated, “Can you just forgive me?” I tried to keep a few tears from welling up. I blinked over and over again. I felt like completely crap. I was hoping today would make up for the completely shitty night I had just went through but it was just making me feel so much worse.

“Maybe I should just run away for the night or something,” he said mockingly. He wasn’t saying it as a joke this time. It was bitter and full of contempt. He rolled his shoulder back, making my hand fall back to my side. I was taken aghast by his words. Now it was all my fault. “I mean, when someone lies I guess it’s the only way to escape.”

“You’re being a child!” I hissed. I took my hand and pushed his arm lightly.

He rolled his eyes and then looked straight at me. “Oh and like you haven’t.”

I scoffed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I think you know damn well.”

He started to get up and walked away. I seized his wrist and his sleeve and tugged him back down. “Oh, you better not be getting away!”

He scowled and ripped his arm back. He was much stronger in this situation.

“At least I didn’t wait to tell you!” I screamed back, getting up off the couch and after him.

“You were planning on never telling me! If you didn’t start bleeding again, you would have covered it up for the rest of our lives.”

“Your lie was worse! You lied to me about getting paid to love me!” I shouted in a rant.

“I do--”

“No, I bet you’re still just getting paid,” I seethed. Okay, maybe I just said that out of anger, but it kind of worked. He came back to my side.

“I’m not still getting paid. Get that through your thick skull.” His arms were around my biceps tightly. They squeezed hard. “And your life was on the line. If you didn’t tell me, you could have just bled out tonight while you slept.”

“I doubt that would have happened if I’m still alive now.”

He let go of my arms and started to walk away, completely fed up with the situation.

“Stop!” I blurted out. He ignored it this time and kept walking. I ran up the stairs and followed him to his room. I slid into the door before he could lock it in my face.

“Just get out,” he muttered, his back turned to me.

“No, Jay,” I said, getting closer. I put my hands on his shoulders.

He shrugged them off. “I said, get out.”

“Jackson--”

“Get.”

“No.”

“Get the fuck out,” he demanded, turning around this time.

My eyebrows lowered down. I stared right at him in complete shock, I couldn’t tell if I wanted to fight him off even more or if I was about to start crying. I could barely stand to look at him even longer to try and argue, so I started sniffling as I spun around and started to hastily walk off.

I don’t think Jackson expected me to cry like that. “Wait, Marissa,” he murmured, softer this time. I kept walking.

I slammed the door shut.

“Fine!” he screeched.

“Fine!” I screamed louder. My voice was hoarse from the lump in my throat. I sniffed and kept walking to my room.