Cliché with a player

Chapter 11 - It was out of pity

After another day of observing they finally let me go home. Although I don't know if it's finally because that means seeing my dad. And I would like to postpone that for as long as possible.

Mom made an official report for assault but my dad has connections almost everywhere so the charges were put at the bottom of the report files pile.

The moment I step out of hospital, I hear loud honking of a car. Black Mercedes drives up to me and when windows roll down, they reveal the driver — Mrs. Taylor.

"Hey, Laken." Her smile is so warm and comforting, it makes me want to cry. "I talked to your mom, you're going to be sleeping at our place for awhile. She said Thompson's house is too close to yours so she isn't sure you'll be safe, and Mrs. and Mr. Moore have a house full of kids already. You can check with your mom if that would make you more comfortable."

Moore is Nessa's last name.

"It's okay."

I open the door and sit in her car, while she plays with the radio for awhile, until she finds the right song.

"That's nostalgic," she murmurs and turns the volume up.

You had to kill the conversation. Freddie Mercury's voice echoes in my mind as my thoughts consume me.

After Jack interrupted our kiss, Matt hasn't spoken to me. Yes, he said he was going to get me water but when he came back he simply put the cup down and left the room. And no matter how hard I tried to talk to him, he would always find an excuse and leave. Until he eventually left home when Dr. Moore said they'll be realising me the next day.

"How are you feeling?" Mrs. Taylor asks me. I probably haven't said anything for a long time because we are almost at their street.

I turn towards her and smile as confidently as I can, "Fine, thanks for asking." She smiles back, although I see she doesn't believe me. She gets that I don't want to talk yet.

She drove us from the other side of the road, not the one Matt used to drive us to his house, so I look at her, questioningly. Worry is written all over her face when she turns to me.

It's because of dad.

She probably used another route so he wouldn't accidentally see her car and me in it. I get it. I wonder how it is for girls, whose fathers actually love and protect them. I always wanted for someone to love me enough to protect me in a way a dad would "protect" his daughter from the world.

"I want you to know you can always talk to me if you want to. Or come to me with any kind of problem."

I nod and open the door.

Matt is waiting for us behind the entrance, looking tense...but hot. His eyebrows are scrunched and his gaze fixates on me.

"Mom, I need to talk to Laken."

"At least you got my name right this time."

"Not the time." He clenches his jaw.

"Matt." His mother takes a strong, determined tone with him. "Laken has to rest first. You can talk later but promise me you won't push her now."

His fists curl up, he is squeezing them so hard that his knuckles have gone completely white. But he still manages to keep his disappointment under control.

"I promise."

"Thank you, sweetheart. Please take Laken to her room."

She gives him a loving kiss on his forehead, when she passes him and makes her way towards the living room.

But in that moment I mostly see my mom, lying in hospital and my dad...I don't know where he is I just hope he went far, far away and that he never comes back. How different would my life be if he wasn't my father. I mean if he would just leave us alone when I was little.

"Are you okay?"

I forgot where I really am.

"I'm just fine."

"When women say that, they never are really fine."

"Well, I am not like others." I say, sounding somewhat absentminded, not looking at him. At least he leaves me alone for the time being and doesn't push the conversation he wanted to have just a minute before.

He leads me up the stairs and past other rooms, and I spot a black concert piano in one of them. It's beautiful and I want to sit and play all day long and never leave.

"Who plays the piano?"

"Me." Matt says without stopping or turning in my direction.

"Do you...do you know for how long I'll be staying with you?"

"No, Laken, I don't know. What's with all the questions?" He sounds pissed with me. What have I done now? Why is he angry with me? Maybe I shouldn't do what I did next but with him being such an asshole, I couldn't hold it back.

"What is your problem?" I pull on his shirt so he would finally look at me like normal people do in a conversation. "Why are you angry at me? Not only did you almost kiss me and then didn't say a word, but you have been incredibly mean to me. What could I have possibly done, that was so wrong? Or are you just a dick?"

At first Matt looks to shocked to speak and I think he will just leave me standing on the hallway, not saying another word, when he exhales a heavy breath.

"I'm not mad at you. I'm mad at me."

"What? Why?"

"Because I kissed you out of pity, Laken!" There is a feverish sparkle in his eyes and on his slightly parted lips, like he doesn't know what to do. Like he doesn't quite understand himself and his actions.

My throat goes dry. It's not that he didn't want to kiss me, I am more hurt by the fact that he did it because he thought it would make me feel better, when all he did was just confuse me more. I was left thinking about what I did wrong for him to ignore me.

Once a player, always a player. I should've known better and not be surprised.

"I was dealing with my own problems and used you to clear my head. I didn't mean it and I regret it now."

First I wanted to cry, then I wanted to yell at him, and now I just want to punch him as hard as I could.

"You are a jerk, Matt Taylor. Not even a sorry from you. Fuck you!"

Not really proud of myself now. But still better then just standing there and not saying anything.

Like him; he's just standing there, watching me like I'm a pray — no, like I am a helpless child.

"Stop looking at me with pity. Just tell me where I need to go so I can get away."

"Third on the right."

Before I open the door, I look back at him, only to find him already staring.

"We all have our crap but not all act as you did. That is no excuse and you know it."

With that I leave him alone, wishing he would get another tutor that day.