The Reason | ✓

3: Getting Deep

3: Getting Deep

His caramel eyes are smiling from his clean cheeks and he's staring at me like I'm showing him something new; something he's never even thought to consider before. He makes me feel special.

His smile slowly fades and he takes a small sip from his still-steaming mug. He hasn't put any sugar or creamer or anything inside it, and I cringe at the thought of tasting the bitterness it withholds.

"So," he starts, and I know we're gonna get in deep. I'm not sure if I'm ready for that. I've only met him just an hour ago - or has it been not even that? - and now we're having coffee in a middle-of-nowhere place, alone, getting ready to have a conversation about life. "Why is your hair cut so short?"

This is not the question I was expecting.

"Um," I stutter, caught completely off-guard. My hand subconsciously goes to my pixie hair, sweeping my small bangs to the side and tucking it behind my ear. "It's kind of a symbolic feature of mine, really."

Shit.

I've just made a simple question transform into a back-story.

"Oh?" he prompts, and I let out a little huff at my stupidity.

"Yeah." He looks at me, waiting for an explanation, and his sincere expression makes me want to talk more. Right then, I needed to explain. I can't have him go away. Not now. "There was a guy," I begin and Will groans, leaning away from the table and tilting his head back in agony.

"A guy," he chastises, and I nod in agreement.

"They're only trouble."

He smirks and crosses his arms against his chest. "I can't argue."

I smile back and ask, "Now may I continue?" He holds his hand out silently, acknowledging me to go on. "Okay. So, there was a guy," I begin again, and I watch his nose wrinkle in distaste. I suppress a laugh and continue. "He was... we can say abusive - that's a good word to describe that relationship."

His eyes narrowed at me and he's immediately scooting his chair closer to the table. "Emotionally, right? Penny, oh God, don't tell me it was physically."

Tears prick at my eyes and I look down at my lap, tapping my fingers together as a coping mechanism. "Um, I suppose it was both - physically and mentally."

He bursts and I jump in my seat, shying away from his explosion. "Penny, oh God, I can't believe it! What a God damn asshole! How did he hurt you? How much? Did you allow it? When did you finally leave him? Oh God, Penny, I'm so sorry."

I peek at him beneath my lashes and I find that he's not staring back, but rather hiding his face in his hands, leaning his elbows on the table. "Badly. A lot. I allowed it for a while, and there's no excuse for it."

I shudder at the memory of Him and me. How his face would turn red with anger; how he would grip his hands into fists by his side, trying to restrain himself from hurting me, but ultimately failing as his hand connected with my cheek. The tears. The screaming. The ambulance. The last time I saw him.

"Penny," Will says, and when I look up I see that he's not hiding his face anymore. I curl my legs onto the chair and wrap my arms around them, as if protecting myself from the terrifying thoughts of seeing Him again. "I promise that you will never hurt again."

I frown. "What?"

He freezes. "I don't know."

"No, continue."

"I- no. I'll continue when you're done with your story. Why did you cut your hair?" he asks, completely turning away from the topic.

Rolling my eyes, I return to the conversation. "He loved my long hair. He would always compliment it, play with it, tell me time and time again how it was his favorite feature of mine." And right then, I see his face in my mind. His crew cut. His icy blue eyes. His built figure and confident stance when he walked.