10. Mia
My cheek smarted, the red welt from Mickey’s ring had left a mark that would definitely bruise, and wouldn’t be gone anytime soon. The downside of being a pale European, I marked easily. Jeez, I sunburnt easily, I bruised easily. The only thing that was even remotely good about my complexion inherited from my maternal side was the fact that I never had acne, I never got one spot growing up. When all of my friends had to contend with teenage acne, I was as clear and baby-faced as ever.
Tenderly, I held the towel of ice against my cheek, hoping that it stopped the swelling. I had to go back to Millie shortly, and I just knew that she was going to blame herself for this.
“Ow ow ow.” That arsehole had a mean backhand. After rushing out with my sister’s stuff, he’d seen the duffel and went berserk, screaming and shouting that I wasn’t allowed to take his stuff and I better put everything back where I found it or else.
Of course, my or else what? Practically had steam pouring from his nose, he’d pushed past poor George and swung. My mouth was clearly smart, but I obviously wasn’t smart enough to move out of his way. Now I was paying for it with a soon-to-be black eye and wounded pride.
And the only reason I got out of there with just this was because George had given him a shove. In his inebriated state, Mickey had fallen to the floor, and we’d had enough time to jump in the car and hoof it out of there. A furious Mickey raging in the rear-view mirror.
I’d had to listen to the driver’s “I told you so’s” about a million times before he dropped me off at my hotel. “I told you it wasn’t a place for you.”
Trying to explain that I didn’t have much choice barely appeased the gentleman who had saved me from perhaps something worse. But I had Millie’s passport and some of her personal effects, so the strike to the face was tolerable.
I’d already texted dad an update, and once Millie was given the all clear, we were jumping on the first transatlantic flight home.
The tea tree oil from my first aid kit stung as I dabbed the cotton ball along my cheekbone, hoping it would aid the healing process. It wouldn’t help the dark circles around my eyes from my time here though, the past few days had been a whirlwind of drama. I needed a holiday from my holiday at this point and begging to go home to my twelve-hour night shifts in AE which seemed far easier at the moment.
The concealer hid some of the redness, but it wasn’t enough to hide the raised skin. It would have to do though, because I had a date with a heartsick sister who would be seeing the evidence of her boyfriend”s anger real soon.