Pessimist

13 - Care

It was two am when I woke up in the middle of the night to a phone call, my eyes crusted heavy with sleep as my hand waved around the nightstand, finally locating my phone and picking it up. With one eye closed, I touched the green icon, moving the phone over to my ear to see who was calling so late at night.

"Hello?" I croaked out.

"I see you."

I sat up, eyes wide as I took in the voice. It was familiar in the worst way, my heart starting to pound as my hands gripped the sheets below, terrified.

"Devon?" I breathed out.

"You got it, babe. How could you do that to me? After everything we've been through? Do you not love me anymore, is that it?" He sounded so sincere and so hurt that I almost fell for it, but I set my mind back on track.

"Fuck off."

This made him angry, his manipulative genuine voice turning into rage. It was almost impressive how easily he could turn on and off the charm, the sudden realization that he knew where I had gone was making me grow frantic. It only confirmed my fears from the beginning; that he had hired someone to follow me and was making up on his promise to keep me trapped with him forever.

"I don't think your boy toy would like seeing those pretty marks on my body, huh? You're mine, Sophia. Don't fucking forget it. And once this temporary restraining order is finished with, you'll be very sorry." He hissed.

"I—" He hung up the phone, making me huff in frustration. I slammed my phone down on my nightstand, pulling up my knees as I laid my head in between them.

With heavy breaths, I tried following the several calming breathing exercises Dean had found for me the other day, however when that didn't work and the food in my stomach turned to steel, I kicked off my sheets, heart in my throat as I rushed over to the bathroom. With my stomach empty and my chest tight, I walked my exhausted body over towards the sink and rinsed my mouth clean, needing to wash away the acidic taste that always seemed to resonate with Devon.
Why the fuck can't I get a break?

I started laughing, it soon rolling into hysterics and then sobs. I bent over the counter, pressing a hand to my mouth as I tried to muffle my cries.

I felt crazy, insane. I felt like i've been fucked over in more ways than one.

He's already taken my entire life, and now he wants more? I had nothing left, absolutely nothing besides the tattered body he left me with. I dunked my face in water, removing any evidence of my breakdown and proceeded to walk back into the guest room to try and get a few more hours of sleep in. Of course he had to call me in the middle of the night, and of course he had to do it right before a test. He probably had my schedule taped to his wall like a psychopath, needing to know my every move.

Minutes upon hours passed by with my gaze stuck on the ceiling, and as tired as I was my body refused to sleep still in survival mode. Thoughts of not wanting to bother Dean filtered through my mind. He already had so much to deal with, I didn't want to wake him up in the middle of the night because I wasn't capable of getting my shit together. It was unfair to him, it was unfair to me.

Though, the more time passed the more I became fidgety, my eyes glancing to the door and window of my room, scared that Devon could come in any second. Fuck, I was actually doing this, I thought, sitting up in my bed. If I didn't sleep I would be severely deprived and I knew I couldn't do my test working with half a brain operating.

With that in mind I willed myself to get up, walking over to Dean's room and hesitated, still not quite sure if I should wake him up.

You need to let others take care of you for a change. His voice rang in my head.