𝐈𝐧𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐏𝐥𝐞𝐚 |𝟏𝟖+

18 || Tired Of Bleeding

song: angel by the wings by sia

.....

aurora moretto

I hold back a sob as my opponent kicks me in the ribs.

"You're supposed to fight back!" He roars angrily. "Your father is gonna blow my brains out if you don't start fighting back!"

I tried. I really did. Giovanni - the man who my father ordered to teach me to fight -is so much bigger than me.

At 12, I'm underweight from the diet my father gave me. I sit at 67 pounds. Mama and father fight all the time about the diet but she's afraid of him so anything he says, goes.

And this man is 4 times my size with wide shoulders, big biceps and he's tall. So tall I have to completely crane my neck back to look him in the eye.

Fighting back gets even harder after so many hits, kicks and punches. Blood is pouring from my nose and from my eyebrow where his ring cut me.

I just want Mama to hold me.

I don't wanna do this anymore.

"God, your pathetic." He spits on me and I feel it land on the side of my exposed stomach.

Hearing the gym door shut, I let the sobs escape. I don't even try to move off the floor, knowing my body is in too much pain to lift myself.

I hear the gym door open.

No, no, no. Please no.

I quiet my sobs, not wanting to show anymore weakness then I already have.

Feeling someone pick me up in their arms, I think that I should fight back but I can't lift my arm.

I lift my head out of their neck and wince. I meet the eyes of a boy who looks my age. His skin is light brown, his eyes also brown but a darker shade and curly hair sits on his forehead - an even darker shade of brown.

"You okay, princesa?" He asks me while carrying me through the long hallways.

"W-who are you?" He opens a door to a bathroom and sets me on the counter.

He gives me a sly smile. "I'm Santiago but you can call me Santi."

"I-I'm Aurora,"

"I know," He tugs at my over sized sleeveless t-shirt. "Is it okay if I take this off? I just want to make sure your ribs aren't broken."

Uncertainty fills me while I feel my cheeks heat up. He notices my hesitant look and says, "I promise I won't look."

"O-okay."

He slips my t-shirt above my shirt and gently takes my hand in his. "Squeeze this if it hurts," He tells me while putting my balled up t-shirt in my hand.

He bends down and inspects my ribs that are an angry shade of red and already bruising. He takes two fingers and applies pressure. I let out a sob in pain and squeeze my T-shirt like he told me too. "I know, I'm sorry, princesa." he coaxes. "They're not broken, just bruised."

Taking my T-shirt from my hand, he slips it over my head again. His eyes never strayed to my chest, just like he promised.

"Why do you c-call me that?" I ask him. "P-princesa, I mean."

He blushes. "Because you look like one." He doesn't give me time to say anything else before he bents down on his hunches. He gently moves my legs over that are dangling over the cabinet doors.