skinny love | shyland

seventeen

ryland's pov

breathe.

that's the word people tend to reiterate when you're stressed, terrified, angry or in floods of tears. in this case, i was gasping for air, hyperventilating, scratching at my throat in futility.

"you're fine. you're good. you're fine. you did the right thing." shane whispered into my ear, his broad arms encasing me in a hug. with the tinted windows masking us, his car stood parked outside the police station which had caught my eye each time i drove to work. "he can't hurt you anymore."

i shot up in a cold sweat, clammy fists clenched around my damp comforter as my eyes fell to conor's limp body beside me. succumbed by heavy sleep, his chest rose and fell rhythmically as i struggled to catch my breath. the clock read four a.m. i refused to believe i had just been awoken from a dream in which i'd sent the man sleeping beside me to prison. in which a muscled chest had pressed against my frail one, hands folding into my hair.

shakily i threw a leg out of bed, glancing over at the deadweight beside me until a snore left his lips, allowing me to press both feet on the short pile carpet. walking into the kitchen with my phone in one hand and an empty glass in the other, i set both items down on the side and drew a ragged breath. my fingers found the cold metal of the tap and as i splashed water over my face, a wave of nausea overtook me. vomit spilled into the sink, my voice box straining as i retched and emptied my guts into the basin.

why the fuck did i have that dream?

within an hour and a half i had cleaned the remnants of my stomach from the kitchen and consumed three slices of toast, now sitting hunched up against the wall with an itch for a cigarette or just him in the back of my mind. i reached for my phone and selected his contact, fingertip hovering over the call button before selecting our chat.

'are you awake?' i typed out slowly, before deleting it and starting again. 'i can't do this anymore' i firmly tapped out, edging towards the send button before remembering how his mouth felt on my neck and cancelling the chat all together. concluding that i was being entirely reckless, i rested my head on the kitchen table and only jolted awake to the sound of madison's feet pattering down the stairs in time for breakfast.

*

denying the hectic nature of work recently would be ridiculous. i barely saw shane, and in the little time he was in the office and not at a recording studio half way across the country, he was in and out of conversations with different artists about upcoming shows or album releases. by the end of the second week of december, just a month after i had heard of the court case and two weeks after my dream, he finally pulled me aside one morning in the freezing cold.

i had headed out to the smoking area when arriving slightly earlier than usual that day, looking for one of the reception ladies who worked at the front desk. cheryl, the young and pretty intern of only about nineteen, had picked up smoking ever since a biker dude started collecting her from work at five every evening. upon arriving most days, i would often see her heading back from shane's smoking area with her head bowed, knowing full well that it wasn't an area open to all staff. but with a small smile i would act oblivious, knowing that shane was more than aware and that had he minded, he would've said something about the poorly crafted roll up stubs that littered the floor. my key had been bent and was failing to work, so having gotten to the office over an hour earlier than i should've due to madison going on a school trip, i retreated to the back of the building in the hopes that cheryl would know something about fixing my access card.

walking down the hall i found myself self consciously touching the side of my face, hoping it wasn't too obvious. two nights previous had ended in a horrific screaming match with conor over him failing to even start looking for a job. the conversation had evolved from his search being brought up in a light discussion, to him grabbing me just above my neck to force me to look at him and listen as he spoke. i'd tried to jut my chin up and move my head away but his grip only grew tighter as he roared how i had no right to question his intentions in finding a career. even thinking about how he had stormed out that evening and returned home a few hours later with a box of chocolates and flowers.