I swear fealty to you (Clexa fanfic)

Part 10

Lexa POV:

"Lexa" I could hear from behind me, but my head didn't want me to stop running. My body on the other hand had other intentions, slowing my pace to a walk. I turned around to see Clarke coming up to me as everyone else was now so far away.

"What the hell was that?" She asked me. I could not believe that was what she came all the way up here to say. "You know what I am Clarke, the things I do. Are you really surprised?" I replied to her with my hands out angrily. "Not that, why did you run away?" Clarke am she said. Her eyes trying to find mine but I wouldn't let her.

I paused for a moment. "Why do you care huh?" I asked her, my voice towering over hers. I was genuinely curious now. She looked baffled by my question. "Why do you care that I ran away, it's not like you actually care what happens me." I said getting louder.

She looked down at the ground before responding, "I do care Lexa." "Do you really?" I said now putting the pieces together. "Yes" she responded louder. "I let you into my home, I didn't want to leave you at yours with the fear of what would happen to you" Clarke said, getting emotional.

"I AM NOT A CHARITY CASE CLARKE! I DON'T NEED YOU PROTECTION! I DON'T NEED YOUR PITY" I could feel the anger rising in me. "I'm not pitying you" Clarke responded rather taken back by the fact I was now shouting. "REALLY CLARKE, SO YOU NEVER TALK TO ME, YOU ACT LIKE I DON'T EXIST, BUT ONCE YOU FIND OUT MY DAD ABUSES ME YOU SUDDENLY SEEM TO GIVE A SHIT? I DON'T BUY IT"

She was speechless, my eyes were now blazing at hers and couldn't even look me in the eye. "Unbelievable" I muttered under my breath. I turned and walked away, she couldn't even move, I walked away from the blonde and from my anger. I walked home, still cooling off from my argument with Clarke.

I walked through the door to my house and my dad was standing there. No smile this time, just pure anger. I threw my stuff in the floor waiting and accepting the punches that were coming my way. I deserved it, and I needed to prove to myself that I didn't need anyone's help. I could handle my own problems and accept the fate I was given. And my dad was more than happy to oblige.

Since the day before I missed our daily punch session, he doubled down on the pain he brought me, I didn't care though. I knew what I had gotten myself into when I walked through the door.

By the time he was finished with me, my face was covered in blood, my nose and mouth were still drowning in it. I had sunk to the floor and his punches and kicks and my chest formed a bruise that covered the whole front side of my body.

I picked myself up immediately after he walked away and went up to my room, pulling the piece of broken glass from my drawer. I spun it around in my fingers a few times before rolling up my shirt. I took a deep breath, or as deep as I could when I could barely breathe out my lungs.

I pressed the glass up against my skin, the slight stinging filling my arm. I watched as the dark red blood slid down my arm before making another incision right next to it, deepening the feeling. More blood rushed down my arm before I made one more cut before stopping once my whole arm was filled with blood.

I just watched. I watched at the blood ran across my arm. The cool feeling as it trickled to skin that hasn't been touched yet.

I made my way to the bathroom sink to look in the mirror at my bloody arm. I still didn't think it was enough. I wanted to see more blood trail down my body, I wanted to feel the pain it brought me one more time. I deserved it and I knew it. I dropped the bloody piece of glass into my sink before turning on the shower. I took one more look in the mirror, another bruise that was bigger than my previous one was forming over my eye.