His Mission (HIS SERIES Book 1) by SAKINA HUSSAIN (each kindness read aloud TXT) 📗

I managed to hide the bruises forming on my skin underneath a grey turtle neck jumper. I ignore the stares around me and pull out a text book from my bag, placing it onto the desk. Beside me, Trish leans in closer —

"You look terrible Em, shouldn't you be at home resting?"

I shake my head, giving her a small smile.

"I feel fine." I lie effortlessly.

"Is it the flu? What if it's Ebola?" Trish grimaces and I notice her not so subtle way of creating distance between us. I immediately giggle and curse myself for doing so as pain shoots through my side. I grip onto it tightly, waiting for the pain to subside.

"It's not Ebola," I explain, breathing in and exhaling out slowly.

"It's always better to be safe than sorry. Ebola kills quickly." Trish continues, her eyes wide as she inspects me from head to toe.

"Would that be such a bad thing?" I mumble under my breath. Trish leans in towards me, her eyes vacant. I know she didn't hear me and I sigh, plastering a smile on my face —

"I'm fine, Trish. Let me copy your notes that I've missed." I mumble, reaching for her book. She nods and pushes it further in my direction. I begin catching up, my eyes flickering from book to paper. Trish shuffles her chair closer to me and bumps shoulders with mine.

"I have so much to tell you!" Trish squeals under her breath. It's a completely innocent interaction but the force of the impact against my bruised muscles causes me to hiss in pain.

I suck in a breath and yelp, jumping backwards. Her eyes widen and she stills, watching me squirm beside her. I close my eyes and silently pray the tears building up inside my eyes will disappear.

"Excuse me," I mutter, my jaw clenched from the pain. I quickly stand up and head straight for the door, ignoring the murmurs of my classmates behind me. I don't care anymore, all I want is the pain to stop. I run through the empty hallway, pushing past the double doors and heading straight for the girls bathroom. Tears roll down my cheeks and I wipe them away quickly.

I'm strong, I can do this.

I release a small whimper and squeeze my eyes shut.

I'm not strong at all. . . I'm lying to myself.

I hear the door push open and I hide my face behind my hands, hoping whoever it is would leave me alone.

"Emily?" His voice is low and lined with concern.

"Leave me alone," I respond, my words muffled behind my hands. I glance up through my blurred vision to find Jake standing against the doorway, a worried expression on his face. Upon noticing the tears in my eyes, he walks towards me and crouches down.

I immediately feel my stomach twist in nerves and I want to shuffle backwards but for some reason, I don't. His blue eyes watch me intensely for a moment, scanning over my features. Eventually he looks directly at me, blue eyes darkening —

"I think it's time you tell me what's going on with you." Jake says firmly.

I remain silent, unable to let him into my thoughts. I can't tell anyone, the thought terrifies me.

Jake sighs at my silence and reaches up, wiping away a tear with his fingers. I immediately freeze, sucking in a deep breath from the way his fingers feel against my cheeks. He places one hand under my chin, tilting my head up so that I'm holding eye contact with him.

"The teacher wouldn't allow Trish to leave." He mumbles apologetically.

"What about you?" I ask him quietly.

"I'm not going to let a teacher stop me." He responds, giving me a small smile. I swallow the lump in my throat and search his eyes.

"Please talk to me," Jake pleads, his voice softening. I close my eyes and shake my head, leaning back against the wall. The words that I want to tell him are at the tip of my tongue but no matter how hard I try, I can't speak the truth.

"My life is completely messed up." I eventually mumble, being vague.

"Oh look, we have something else in common." Jake smiles, his tone playful. He reaches forward and pulls me into his chest. His body feels warm and for the first time since my dad died, I feel safe.

The feeling of safety is one that I haven't felt for years. I'm surprised that someone like Jake Melvin is the first person to make me experience it. I can hear the soft thumping of his heart through his shirt and I sniffle, burying my head closer to him.

"It's going to be okay." Jake reassures me despite being oblivious to the truth.

"You can't possibly know that," I whisper in response. His arms tighten around me and I relax against him, breathing in his warm scent. A comfortable silence falls upon us until Jake gently pushes backwards, his eyes meeting mine. I feel embarrassed and reach up, wiping away the last of my tears.

"Sorry, I must look a mess right now." I mumble, a red tint covering my cheeks. Jake doesn't respond and looks at me intensely, almost as if he wants to say something. Before he does, his phone begins to beep inside his pocket. He reaches for it but doesn't break eye contact with me and his stare makes me feel vulnerable and exposed.

I clear my throat and look away, focusing on a small piece of rubbish on the floor. From the corner of my eye, I see Jake smile before glancing down at his phone. The smile on his face vanishes as his eyes scan over the message —

"I have to go."

I nod quickly but can't help feeling dis-heartened. Jake notices my disappointment and sighs before running a hand though his hair. He stands up off the floor,