No one is home.

With both my sisters at college, the house can empty out quickly.

Dad left a note taped to the front door that he and Mom went to the city, which is only an hour away, to run some errands.

The hard part about living in such a small town is that if you need something specific, you may need to travel away to get it. Especially if you don't want to spend an arm and a leg on that specific thing.

We may have a mall, but trust me when I say this: it's tiny. It may not even be considered a mall, but that's what everyone calls it.

I take the note and open the door, then set the note on the counter. The door isn't locked because Connor is upstairs and he happens to know where the key is.

I clutch my clothes tightly to my chest and walk up the stairs carefully, not in any hurry to see him.

I've known it for a while now. We've been growing apart and it doesn't even have anything to do with Will. This was happening before he came back. This was happening shortly after Connor and I became a thing.

He's sitting on my bed when I walk in. I look at him with a blank face - at least I hope it's blank - and he looks up at me with anger etched in his features. It's barely there, but I can see it.

"Hey," I say quietly, scared that the tension in the room will shatter from my voice.

"Where were you? I've been here for like, ten minutes." He stands to follow me to my desk where I set my damp clothes on the chair. I realize how cold my legs are from walking in the chilly atmosphere outside.

"Oh, it's nice to see you too, Connor. I've been great, how are you?" I say in a mock tone. I hear him grunt from behind me.

"I don't need to ask that since I already know the answer," he replies calmly. I turn to him and cross my arms over my chest.

"Oh, really?" I demand.

"Hey, you're the one that has been ignoring me," he argues. "That doesn't mean I don't keep tabs on you."

"What does that mean? Are you spying on me?" I ask him, angered by the thought.

I think back to feeling as if someone was taking pictures of me earlier today. My anger becomes much more than that.

"Look, I'm not here to talk about that."

I stare at him with empty eyes. "What are you here for then, Connor? To tell me how awful I am for not talking to you? My bad, I should be more forgiving even though-"

He reaches for my wrists and grabs them in his hands, jerking me towards him with all his might. I wince slightly but try to hide it.

"I'm here to ask you why you've been hanging out with Will Dawson. That's why you haven't been talking to me. That's why you didn't have time," he spits. I pull my wrists from his grasp and walk around him towards my bed.

When I turn back to him, he's showing me a picture of myself in the parking lot with tubs of ice cream in my arms. Will is in the very corner of the shot.

I shove it away from my face. I know it was wrong. I know that all of my choices hurt someone.

"You feel bad, don't you?" He grunts. "You should, whore."

My eyes grow wide with shock at the sound of the word.

Is that what I am? Is that what I've become?

I turn my back to him and try not to cry. I hate to cry. Especially in front of someone who takes my weaknesses and twists them into something worse.

I'm suddenly spun around to face him, his hands clutching my upper arms. I'm sure that my face feigns fear, because that's the only thing I feel in this moment.

"D-don't touch me," I try to say bravely, but it comes out shakily. "I'm done, Connor. W-we're done."

His face falls into a look of pure annoyance before he raises his hand back and allows it to land against my cheek with enough force to push me onto my bed.

In shock, I grab my face with my hands and start to panic. My fearful eyes meet Connor's shocked ones. His eyes are wide as if he can't believe that he just did that.

The sad thing is: I can believe it.

"You can't just say you're done," He tells me and I can detect a little bit of regret in his voice, though I know he'd never admit it.

"Why do you even care, Connor?" My voice comes out scratchy. "You don't care what happens to me. Just go."

"Everything changed when Will came to town. And I'm about to fix this," he tells me with determination.

"No, things were different way before he came back, and you know it. You just need someone to blame it on." The way he looks at me when I say it, I know he's about to do something.

I stand up and ready myself for anything.

"I'm going to fix this." It's the last thing he says before he marches out of my house.

And then I allow myself to fall apart.

Cries escape my mouth as I crumble to the ground, holding the side of my face that is now sore to touch.

How could things get to this point?

*

I finally get the energy to check my phone at around 7. The sun has went down and I'm sure my parents will be home any time now.

Five minutes ago Will called me, according to my phone. I stare at the screen for a few moments before panic sets in. What exactly does "I'm going to fix this" mean?

I redial Will's number and hold the phone to my ear softly.

When he answers, his voice is hoarse.

"Will?" I ask quietly, not sure what he's trying to do.

"Can you come here..." he trails off. He sounds annoyed. "I'm at your backdoor."

I shake my head. "Of course you are."

He doesn't reply as I get up for the first time in a few hours. My right foot is asleep and painful to walk on. I purposely avoid the mirror as I leave my room and head downstairs.

I see his silhouette before I open the door. Since it's dark outside and in the house, I can't see him. And he can't see me.

He walks in with a slight limp and waits for me to shut the door before he starts up the stairs. I follow behind him, confused by how he's acting.

"I have a cut on my forehead and I think I stoved my thumb. Don't even ask me about my nose," he rambles as he searches for the light in the bathroom across from my room.

When he finds it, I'm shocked by what I see. He's right: his forehead has a huge gash right along his hairline, his nose looks a little crooked and he may or may not have two black eyes, his clothes are disheveled and dirty and ripped in places, and his thumb is bruised.

"That light switch was always hard to find," is all he says. I stare at him, my mouth slightly ajar. I quickly turn around so he can't see my cheek and the bruise that is undoubtedly there. Hurrying to my parents' bathroom, I find the first aid kit and take it back to my bathroom.

"Here," I say as I flip it open and search for some disinfectant and bandages. "These should help-"

He reaches for my arm and I flinch, my eyes narrowing. Gently turning me towards him, he examines the bruise on my cheek.

"Did he...?" He says slowly and quietly.

I look away from him and back to the kit to continue searching. "I could ask you the same."

"Don't worry about me, you should've seen the other guy," he tells me. But the humor in his voice is gone. "Jessa, did Connor hit you?"

I try my best to avert my eyes, but his face is so scratched up and his eyes are so captivating that I can't. The tears begin to build up but I hold them back as a lump forms in my throat.

"I... um..." I stutter. He pulls me to his chest in an instant. I'm tempted to let my tears fall, but I don't want him to see my weakness. Connor already saw it.

"I'll make him regret it, Jessa," Will says next to my ear. "I swear I will."

"No," I say against his chest, but I don't move my arms from around him. "I don't want anymore fighting. I don't want it."

"Yeah, but, Jess-" He starts but stops when I look up at him.

"We need to fix your head. And your nose," I try to smile but it hurts my cheek. "Your nose is a disaster."

He doesn't smile as I make my way out of his arms. I tell him to sit on the toilet seat after he puts it down and I pin his brown curls out of his face. The disinfectant goes on well and he winces at the burn. I place a bandaid over it for good measure.

His nose isn't something I can fix, so he promises to go to the hospital tomorrow after school to get it along with his thumb checked out.

When I'm done fixing him up, he just stares at me. Well, the bruise on my cheek. I finally move in front of the mirror so I can get a good look. It's red and blue and purple. I lightly brush over it with my fingers and think of ways to cover it with makeup.

"You can't tell my parents, Will." I hunt for my makeup bag that is thrown under the sink.

"Why not? We have to do something. He hit you. No guy should ever do that, Jessa. He hunted me down-"

He's standing behind me now as I try to become a makeup artist.

I turn around to face him. "What happened?"

Will runs his hands through his hair and let's out a deep breath.

"I got this call from one of his friends that somehow got my number. They found me at the dock. Teamed up on me. But I got Connor by himself and we went at it. I think I broke his hand, I'm not sure."

I'm sure the look on my face tells him just how I feel about it. Feeling overwhelmed, I cover my face with my hands.

"This wasn't supposed to happen," I say into them. "Not to you."

He gently takes my wrists in his hands and I think about Connor grabbing them earlier. Will lowers them and places his hands on either side of my face.

"You don't deserve that," he says simply.

And then he kisses me. Everything freezes. I can only feel his lips against my own, my nose brushing his, my heart beating with his. Just like they used to. Because in all my life, I've never had something feel so right. Even if it was so wrong.

The kiss brings back memories, and I don't just mean memories from years ago. I mean memories from a short time ago, at a party. A party that I thought was a sign that Connor and I were going to work.

When Will pulls away, the feeling in my stomach remains. I keep my eyes closed as he leans his forehead against mine.

I can feel excess disinfectant rub across my forehead and I cringe.

"Sorry," Will chuckles quietly.

I open my eyes to see his staring into mine.

Then reality sets in.

"You feel bad, don't you?" Connor grunts. "You should, whore."

The words echo in my head.

Whore.

Is that who I am?

I purse my lips and push the feelings away as I push Will away. He watches my every move, how I won't make eye contact, how I can't let him kiss me, how I can't allow myself to miss it. I can't allow myself to let him in again.

"I'm sorry," I whisper. "I... I can't."

I walk passed him and into my bedroom, shutting the door easily behind me. I sit down on the edge of my bed and feel my chest heave up and down.

Up and down, up and down.

I cry silently into my hands.

"Me too," I hear him say outside my door. He doesn't try to come in and he doesn't try to push me past my breaking point.

He gives me the space I so badly need, but so badly don't want.

If you wouldn't have taken Hannah for granted,

If you wouldn't have lied to your parents,

If you wouldn't have let Will reel you back in,

Maybe, just maybe, you'd have someone left.
_______

The song is Waiting for Superman by Daughtry because everyone needs a Superman, especially Jessa right now. Who do you think will be her Superman?