||Jamilla Tate|| First Person ||

        My curly hair is a mess.

        Her eyes, a deep brown that used to shine so brightly, seem almost dull in comparison to who she was the week before. Her face is clearly pale with exhaustion-- she looks almost sick. Her curls that were once bouncing and voluminous now hang limply as they half-heartedly frame her sullen face. She looks horrible-- it's a disappointing sight to see. My reflection might as well be regarded as an atrocity.

        The worst part about my appearance has to be the slightly swollen bumps on myface, the skin red and ginger to the touch after being assaulted so harshly. Bringing a finger to my face, I let myself softly trace the left side of my smarting face. My phone sits on the counter of the bathroom, my notifications telling me insistently that I have five missed calls from an extremely worried Garrett who hasn't seen me for a whole week since he gave me these marks. I didn't want to talk to him, not until I was ready to forgive him.

         "You really have to be more careful," Becca says softly as she comes to stand next to me at the mirror, her tube of mascara held in between her fingers as she examines her own youthful face. "I mean, how do you trip up the stairs?" She laughs easily, trying to humour me, so I take that as my cue to chuckle as well.

        "Takes a special kind of clumsy," I say, turning to my tube of foundation and getting ready to smear it over my cheek like I've done every day since. Becca grabs my wrist suddenly, staring at me with wide eyes.

        "Hey, you've gotta let it breathe, Jam." She says around a hesitant laugh. "You've covered it up the whole week-- how're you supposed to heal anything?"

        "Becca..." I stare longingly at the makeup tube that would effectively cover the mark that Garrett had accidentally left on me the week prior. I wouldn't go to my History lecture with a bruise over my cheek-- what would people say?

        "If you must, but I think concealer is enough." Becca tells me. I curse under my breath when I remember that I've left that back on my nightstand. I set my foundation tube on the counter, telling Becca I'd be right back, before cautiously heading out to the hallway in an effort to make it to my room to quickly retrieve my concealer. I hurry down the carpeted floor, my sneakers emitting a dull thud with every step I take as I grow nearer. Rounding a corner, I stop in my tracks when I see the door across the hall from my own open. Josh Dun steps out in his winter gear-- a beanie and his winter coat left unzipped. He turns his head to glance down the hall, and upon noticing me, he grins.

       "Hey, Jami," Josh calls out, and I reluctantly make my way towards him, tilting my head to an angle in the hopes that my hair would fall over my face. I call out a shaky greeting to the boy that had angered Garrett enough for him to throw a book at me, wishing that he would keep going about his day as usual. But Josh doesn't walk away like I hoped he would-- instead, he stays there, waiting for me to head over to him. "I'm just about to head out, but I just wanted to ask--" Josh pauses for a moment when I turn my back to him, jamming my key into the lock on my door. "Jamilla, look at me for a sec." He says suddenly.

        "Hold on, I have to--" I budge the door open with my hip, about to head into my room so I can quickly grab my concealer and dodge Josh. He gently rests a hand on my shoulder though, stopping me from moving. "I just--"

        Josh carefully slips a hand underneath my chin the way Garrett did just before we fought, tilting my head up so he can see my face. Josh's eyebrows furrows, his other hand brushing the strands of my curls away from my cheek.

         "I tripped up the stairs," I blurt out immediately, not allowing him to interrogate me. "It's just a bruise, Josh, I'm about to--" I stop. Josh is looking at me as if he can just tell that I'm lying to him. I thought I had been getting pretty good at doing that.

        "Was it Garrett?" He asks me quietly. I don't answer him because a part of me is terrified that he'll say that he told me so; that he'll rub it in my face that he knew I shouldn't have trusted someone. Instead, I only stare blankly at him. "I swear to God--" He doesn't continue because he's too busy wrapping me up in a tight hug, holding me to his chest so he can keep me together. I cling onto him then just as tightly because I'm fearful that if he lets go even a little bit, I'll fall apart entirely.

        "He's not a bad person, Josh," I mumble into his shirt, because for some reason after seeing the terror in Garrett's eyes when he realized what he'd done makes me feel badly for him. "He just got mad and... it was an accident." Josh doesn't scold me for defending Garrett-- instead, he holds onto me tighter than before. "Josh, please say something..." I plead with him, and he huffs in response.

        "If I say something, I'm afraid that I'll go looking for him." Josh mumbles into my hair. "You don't want me to find him, Jami, because I swear..." I press my face into the fabric of his sweater, inhaling his scent and allowing it to calm me down a little bit more. I snake my hands underneath his jacket and wrap my arms around his waist, gripping the back of his sweatshirt.

        "It's like one of us is always falling apart when we see each other." I tell him, but he doesn't respond to that. Instead, Josh pulls away from me so that he can look down at me.

         "Did you sleep?" He asks, and when I shake my head(all I could think about was how Garrett was suddenly just like them), he leads me back into my dorm room, kicking the door shut behind us as an afterthought. Josh steers me towards my bed, making me get in it and under the covers before sitting down next to me.

        "I have History." I mumble softly, and Josh sighs sadly as he looks down at me. He brings a hand to my face, brushing my hair away from my sore cheek.

        "Missing one class won't kill you." He says quietly, his voice deep and calming to me. I roll over onto my side so that I can continue looking at him, this beautiful boy that I am clearly undeserving of. Why did I always have to keep coming back to him?

       "My phone is in the bathroom with Becca," I say under my breath. Josh shakes his head, reaching out so he can run his hands through my curly hair soothingly. "Josh, I can't leave my..."

        "Becca will bring it back for you, Jami." He tells me. "Don't worry about it."

        "Josh?"

        "Hm?"

       "Can you hold me?"

        Josh doesn't answer me, instead turning his back towards me. I frown in disappointment for a moment, thinking that he was just going to ignore me, but then I realize that his arms are moving. Josh kicks off his sneakers, nudging them to the side with his sock-covered foot, before turning back around. "Move over, Jami." He tells me with a tiny smile.

         I willingly shift across the bed, moving towards the wall so that Josh can lay down next to me. He pauses for a moment, both of us lying on our backs without making any moves. It's only when I roll over onto my side that Josh follows suit, wrapping his arms around my body before pulling me closer to him. An overwhelming sense of safety envelopes me the moment that Josh holds me to his chest, feeling the security of his arms as they keep me close. "Thank you," I whisper, and Josh hums in response.

        "I have two sisters and a brother," he says softly, his left hand lacing his fingers with my own easily. "Ashley, Abigail, and Jordan. They're a handful, but they're my family." I squeeze his hands lightly, encouraging him to go on. Anything to take my mind off of my exams and the pending relationship I have with Garrett Mason. "Abby's ten right now... Ash is sixteen and Jordan is twelve." I nod my head lightly. "I'm sure they'll love you." I twist slightly so that I'm on my back again, Josh's arm slung over my waist yet still gripping my hand.

        "I'm an only child." I tell him with a frown. "I think my parents had a rocky patch and they decided that I was enough." Josh's eyes are focused on my face, and normally I would have felt insecure about it, but I don't.

        "Have you started packing yet?" He asks me quietly. I tell him that I haven't. "My mom is really excited," he snorts, making me laugh in amusement.

        "I'm excited," I tell him truthfully, but for some reason my voice sounds strange even to me. Josh pauses for a moment, his gaze flickering back to the mark on my face that's been taking forever to go away. I know what he's about to ask before it even leaves his mouth-- it's obvious that the thought has been bothering him since he found out.

        "Was it because of me?" He says slowly, something about his tone sounding apologetic almost. I frown, chewing on my bottom lip as I recall what exactly happened. I don't want to tell him, because I know that he'll beat himself up over it. Garrett isn't a bad person-- he's kind and sweet and awkward and it was just one time. He didn't mean for me to get hurt.

        "He didn't like the idea of me going home with you." I tell him slowly, but when I feel him let go of my hand, I try to get the words out quicker. "He threw my notebook and it hit me--" Josh sits up abruptly at that, his fists clenching lividly as he untangles himself from my bedding. I sit up immediately, going to follow him. "Josh!" I say, but he isn't listening, instead grabbing for his sneakers.

        "I'm gonna kill him--" Josh is saying, and I'm grabbing his arm in a panic.

        "Josh, stop it!" He doesn't listen to me, his eyes narrowed and his jaw set. "Josh, please," I beg him, and I guess there's some sort of desperation in my words because he's finally listening to me and pausing in the middle of trying to tug one of his Converse sneakers on. "Please, Josh, I need you." I say vulnerably. Josh sighs at that, staring at the floor in disappointment.

        "When are you going to leave him?" Josh asks me. I let go of him then, staring at the denim of my black jeans with uncertainty. "I'm asking because you can't have--"

        "You think I don't know that?" I snap at him. Josh stops then, turning to look at me. "Sorry," I apologize immediately for snapping at him.

        "I don't want to be--"

        "You're not the B team, Josh, if that's what you think." I say, but he doesn't look thoroughly convinced. He doesn't understand why I don't think I can just up and leave Garrett, not after a month and a half of our relationship sailing smoothly. "When I met Garrett, he wasn't pretending to be anyone. He was himself and... I really, really like that, Josh. But what happened last week was a complete freak accident-- he didn't mean for it..."

        "You can lie to yourself all you want, Jamilla." He says in response, any trace of the boy that had been smiling at me just minutes earlier gone. "Just don't try and lie to me."

        "Josh," I say desperately, but he's already getting up at this point and trying to head for the door. "Josh, you don't understand--"

        "What don't I understand?" Josh turns to look back at me, his eyebrows furrowed and hurt etched into his beautiful features. I clutch my stomach then, feeling absolutely sick with the way he's looking at me. "Is it the fact that you feel the need to defend the same guy that hit you, or is it the fact that I'm obviously just not good enough?"

          "That's ridiculous!" I say, but he shakes his head to rid himself of my words. "Josh--"

          "It's always the same thing with you, Jami." He says, cutting me off. "You're so... blinded."   

         "I'm not blinded, Josh." I say. "How do you expect me to just tell someone that--"

         "Easy." Josh says harshly, and then he's turning on his heel and storming out of my room, slamming the door shut behind him. I stare at the negative space where he once stood, my insides churning at the thought that I've really screwed up whatever I had with Josh. Again. Why do we keep doing this to each other? Is it that hard to not be irrational when we're with each other?

        I lay back down, inhaling Josh's lingering scent that he left on my pillow. I clutch my blanket to my chest, staring vacantly at the empty spot in my bed that he once filled so easily mere minutes before. If I just started keeping my mouth shut, I wouldn't always have to find myself in this position. 

        I think back to Becca who is waiting for me back in the bathroom and find the will within me to grab my tube of concealer and head out, deciding then that I would go to my History lecture.