A Pocketful of Gems

Chapter 3: the birds began to sing - Part 1

When the tears finally ceased flowing I was exhausted. Every square inch of my body hurt, my throat was raw and my eyes stung.

I sank into the swing like my bones were made of jelly and flinched when I inhaled deeply and my chest burned. I did manage a tiny lip curl at the scent of damp earth that wafted up.

I exhaled with minimal pain and looked around at the park. I'd not realized it was so grey and hazy, the brightly colored park furnishings casted into shadow now washed-out shades of their daylight hues. Or was it just my current outlook. I lifted my head and looked up at the sky, oh, it's raining...I'd forgotten.

"He hit her," I said without prompt, still looking up into the sky. My voice was hoarse and my throat pained, but I had to get it out, tell someone. "You can see... each individual finger... in the bruise on her face... he says, 'next time' he'll control his temper better. Next time?" I scoffed. The sound was as harsh in utterance as it was on my throat.

I looked over at Spencer. He looked down at his hands between his knees. He didn't look up and he didn't speak. He breathed deep and quiet.

"Nothing good can come of this Spencer, nothing, it's a turning point for us and I'm scared to admit that even I don't care if it ends well."

He didn't look up, "you don't mean that."

"I do."

"Trust me, you don't," he snapped. I glowered at his audacity to get upset. He reached across and took my hand, "that's just your anger talking. When you calm down you'll see. I'm sorry things escalated to this, Gemma, we told you we'd help you and we are going to, but you need to not give up on your parents, just yet. They need you."

I took a deep breath and exhaled, the sky did the same. I encircled myself with one arm. My teeth clattered.

"Spencer?"

He squeezed my hand.

"How did you know to come find me?"

He hesitated.

"Your dad called me," I blanched remembering that I threw my phone at him. I'm an awful child; I'm going to burn in hell for sure.

I frowned, "but my phone has a lock."

"You recall his order of Raisin Rolls?" I nodded; it was only a few days ago. "He used it to get my number."

"And you gave him?" I gaped at Spencer in disbelief.

"I didn't think I had a choice," he gripped my hand tighter. I pulled away from him, flipped my wet hair behind my shoulders and walked away leaving him on the swing. The rain fell in sheets; from five feet away I couldn't make out Spencer. I pulled his jacket tighter around my shoulders. I hadn't meant to take my anger out on him.

"Do you want to come back to my place?" he shouted through the downpour. My lips curled; he probably didn't realize how that sounded.

"No."

My voice was so hoarse, it came out as barely a whisper and I wondered if he'd heard me.

"I have orders to drag you back if I must." I walked back to him and stood between his legs. I folded my arms and glared down at him.

"Let's say I want to go back to your place," I smiled when he did, "but I feel like playing difficult."

He stood facing me, rain water twisting off the ends of curls laying flat against his head. He was so close I could feel his warmth and I suddenly wanted to be in his arms and kissing him. He flashed a quick smile then ducked low and scooped me onto his shoulder.