A Trophy Father's Trophy... Daughter

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Eleven

Justin's POV

I sat on the seat next to with my computer on my lap. I was trying to get my solitare game on, but I just couldn't concentrate. I didn't know her name. I didn't know her story. But I knew one thing for sure, she was breaking down. I examined her resting bosy, and I saw scars and bruises all over her legs and arms and everywhere in between. She was curled up in the fetal position and while most people look peaceful when they sleep, she looked scared and stressed. I wished I could just lay next to her and tell her it would all be alright soon.

She began moving her legs as if she was running, and was beginning to sweat. Her facial expressions turned into a terrifed look, and it seemed like she was struggling to run away from something. Then she screamed. It was a horrific scream that pierced through my ears and made every bone in my body shake (like hers was at the moment). It was like a scream from a horror movie. But then she turned still. Her breathing was normal again, and she seemed to be calming down. The rest of the guys just looked at her with concerned looks, and then went back to whatever they had been doing. But I wanted to watch her. I wanted to wait and see if her face ever would turn peaceful. 

I played the scene over and over again in my mind. Seeing her limp body on the sidewalk, and seeing how much pain she was in. Kellin jamming on the breaks and me running out. Her violent shaking when I reached out to touch her. Carrying her to the bus, and laying her down on the seat, watching her beautiful body lay there and breathe. Watching her live. Knowing she was safe now. That made me feel a little better. But I didn't even know her name...

Kellin's POV

I glanced over at her every once in a while to make sure she was doing alright. Oh, she was beautiful. Stunning. Amazing. As she slept, she was curled up in a ball, and had a stressed sort of look on her face. I wanted so badly to just go and sit with her and comfort her. She started moving around and struggling, and was beginning to sweat. She screamed and it startled me. It startled everyone. But then her face seemed like it was getting a little bit calmer, and she began to relax a little bit more. I began writing my lyrics for a new song again, still glancing back at her as I wrote each line. I called it, "Angel's Wings."

I saw her from across the street.

She was broken, she was bruised. She was crying, she was used.

Her body shook, her hands were weak. 

I stood back a bit, unable to speak. 

Her beauty, her beauty, her beauty. 

Lift her up on angel's wings.

Heal her cuts, take away every bruise. 

Lift her up on angel's wings.

Love her. Heal her. Take her. Want her. Hold her.

Someone took advantage of her poor soul,

Their hearts full of hate, and black as coal...

But I'll love her. I'll take care of her. I'll heal her heart, and let it rest.

I'd be her all, her everything, her best.

Her beauty, her beauty, her beauty.

Lift her up on angel's wings.

Heal her cuts, take away every bruise.

Lift her up on angel's wings.

Love her. Heal her. Take her. Want her. Hold her. 

Her beauty, her beauty, her beauty.

Love her. Heal her. Take her. Want her. Hold her.

Want her. Hold her.

Lift her up on angel's wings.

Heal her cuts, take away every bruise.

Kiss her scars, bandage her heart.

Kiss her lips. Kiss her soul.

Lift her up on angel's wings.

And love her.

When she awoke, we'd talk. And I'd sing her my song. She'd know who it was about. Her rosy little cheeks would turn redder, and she'd look at me with those beautiful eyes of hers. Those eyes. I could stare at them for hours and hours on end. I wanted to know her story. I wanted to know what happened. I wanted to know her name...