Misfits (#2)

48.

Everest.

I didn't think loving someone would be painful. But it is, when their pain instils itself into you.

Seeing Violet in pain is the most excruciating thing I've ever experienced. I love her. I'd take beating after beating instead of watching the way hurt has consumed her whole.

Instead of watching tears slip down her cheeks and breathing come so hard to her. As if simply existing is difficult for her right now. There's nothing I can really do and this helplessness, it's fucking killing me.

It's been a rough couple of days. Ever since she told me about the abuse, she hasn't left our room much, quieter and just wanting to hide away in my arms. To hide abuse for years, to have it out in the open and to face it, it's not easy.

I keep telling her we'll get through it. We will. I know we will but this harsher period, before she gets better, it's crippling. The sight of her own scars make her spiral, knocking her back a few steps every time I think she's getting better. Nightmares rid her breathless and she's tired.

She's so tired, my sweetheart.

"Hey."

I startle and look towards Ria as she walks in, rubbing at her eyes. It's almost 3am, the apartment dark excluding the light from the windows. I can only really make out the shape of her figure until she gets closer.

"You eating something?" She asks.

"What?"

She nods towards the fridge. I had opened it before but I'd lost myself in thought. I clear my throat, "Not for myself. Violet needs to eat."

Ria sits herself up atop the counter besides me. I don't even know what I was looking for and my eyes are burning from the light of the fridge.

"Is she any better?" She asks softly. I can hear the concern in her voice. Violet's sort of shut herself into our room. The admission's made her retreat away.

I don't look at Ria. I don't know what to say or how to answer it because no. She's not. She pretends and she still smiles softly, jokes with me every now and then. But there's so much anguish in her green eyes. Violet Amory is good at putting on a show.

I slam the fridge shut and rest my forehead against it. My Violet. My Violet's been abused for years. Neglected for longer than that. Alone, for so much of her life.

This whole time, she didn't return to ballet because dancing, for a few minutes more, made her late. And she's lived several years since then being told it was her fault. I can't get it out of my head. The image of her being trapped in that manor. Of crying, and screaming, and glass cutting through-

"You don't look too good either." Ria says.

"How did I not fucking see?" I whisper, the dark around us, "Why didn't she show me? She smiled everyday and I was none the fucking wiser."

"You smile everyday and nobody's the wiser, either." She says, "Blaming yourself isn't going to help her, Ev."

"There are eight scars on her left arm alone." My face twists in pain. Eight. She told me that four of them had come from when her mother shoved her onto broken bits of glass.

Only a few more on her back, and three more on her right arm. I need to know. I need to know if she ever gets another one. I need to know if she's ever hurt again because I, I can't let her go through it alone again-