Come Hell or High Water - Striker x Reader (18+)

102. The Sturdiest of Trees

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TRIGGER WARNING:

This chapter contains strong themes of sexual trauma that may be disturbing or troubling for some readers. Please proceed with caution.

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"My past is an armor I cannot take off, no matter how many times you tell me the war is over."

— Jessica Katoff

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Two days after the meeting, I got a call from Charlie. It was around mid-morning after I'd come home from work — I had just gotten out of the shower and entered my bedroom when the phone rang. After staring at the caller ID for several seconds, mentally debating whether or not I actually wanted to speak to her, I answered the call and held the phone to my ear.

"Hello?"

"Um, hi, (Y/N)," Charlie said timidly. She sounded so uncertain, remorseful even.

I bit my lip. I still wasn't quite sure how to feel about Charlie in that moment. With Neil removed from the picture, she would no longer have to fulfill the angels' wishes of inviting him back to the hotel — but the fact remained that she had still considered doing it.

I just didn't know what to think. What she almost did. . .

But she'd been backed into a corner, I had to remind myself. The angels had threatened her livelihood, her hope of helping anyone else. They'd forced her to make an impossible choice.

She was my friend. I loved her. After everything she'd done for me. . .

"(Y/N)," Charlie started slowly. "I decided not to invite him back into the program. I — I know the fate of the hotel might be at stake, but. . ."

Her voice threatened to fail her, and I could hear her quickly becoming tearful when she forced herself to speak again: "I can't do that to you, (Y/N). A-And I'm so sorry I ever considered it. . ."

My jaw went partly slack. I cleared my throat as I tried to find the words. "That's . . . Do the angels know yet?"

"N-No," she answered quietly. "I haven't told them yet. . ."

I briefly pursed my lips in thought. "Good," I said. "Now you can just tell them you never got the chance to."

"What do you mean?"

My mouth stayed open for a moment. "He's dead," I said hesitantly. "Striker killed him."

Charlie was quiet before I heard an incredulous, "What?"

"I didn't ask him to," I explained. "I never even mentioned it — he just took it upon himself to do it while I was asleep one night. He killed him with one of his holy weapons. So he's gone, for good. . ."

"(Y/N). . ." There was another brief period of silence that followed. "Are . . . Are you alright?"

I paused at her words, my hand tightening around my phone. "I — I don't know," I muttered. "I feel like I should be happy that he's gone — and I am, but . . . I know I'm still going to have nightmares about him. I know, sometimes, I won't want anyone to touch me. I still won't be able to sleep during a storm . . . Everyone just assumes that I'm 'free' now."

Hot tears stung my eyes, and my throat threatened to close on me. "But I'm not, Charlie. And I never will be. I'm the one who's left facing the repercussions of what happened. He's not here anymore, but I am — I'm still . . . I'm still stuck here fighting him!" I shook my head in an attempt to stave off my tears. "He's always gonna be a part of me now — this ugly thing hanging over my shoulder. I-I just . . . I'll never. . ."