It took Jason a little while to get it through his head; every time he caught his reflection, his fingers immediately went to the dark and shiny swollen skin around his left eye. And each time, he would wince, and then adjust his glasses, which only made the pain worse. He’d tried putting in his contacts, but his eyelid was too misshapen. He made every effort to stop checking himself out, but the only upside to the beating he’d taken was that he was kind of into what the bruise was doing for his face. He’d fallen asleep in front of the TV, and woken up in the middle of the night to find his eye socket throbbing, his torso sore. Bathed in the strange blue glow of the television screen, he fumbled for the lamp, and then blinked rapidly against the harsh light. His eyelashes were like anvils against his cheeks, sending searing pains shooting through his head. When his sight had adjusted, he hunted for his phone in the couch cushions. No missed calls. After he’d left school, there’d been nothing more from the anonymous number.
