A World Apart (Scomiche)

Chapter 9: My Worst Fears

Mitch's P.O.V.

I woke up feeling like I had been hit by a bus.

Oh yeah, I remembered bitterly. I kind of was. The Troye bus.

Much to my dismay, I remembered that I had stayed the night at his house last night, so I was still here. It's not like it was by choice. He forced me to stay here.

This isn't what it was supposed to be like.

I was supposed to be happy.

I was supposed to feel safe and comfortable.

I was supposed to love Troye.

But I didn't.

I should've told someone about this when it first started. I shouldn't have waited for things to get better. How I wish that I could run home to Scott right now and tell him everything. Show him the bruises...

But I was in too deep now. I couldn't tell him, or anyone for that matter. I couldn't even imagine what Troye would do to me if he found out. I might not come back alive.

I glanced around me, taking in my familiar yet disheartening surroundings. Troye was on the bed next to me, one hand draped over my bare chest. His chest was bare too, and I stared at him, looking at the person who instilled fear into my heart. With his rippling muscles and bulky build, I quickly remembered why I was so afraid of him.

I shifted, testing to see if I could move out of bed without disturbing him. The last thing I wanted to do was wake him up.

He groaned softly and switched positions, and I watched in fear to see if he would wake up. Thankfully, he settled back into the covers and fell back into a peaceful sleep.

I carefully inched the rest of the way out of bed and padded down the hallway to the guest bathroom, grabbing my shirt, socks and shoes on my way out. The artificial light hurt my eyes at first, but after a few seconds, my vision cleared.

My reflection stared back at me, looking more helpless than ever. The marks and bruises didn't come as a shock to me, as they would have been to anyone else who looked at me.

They blossomed across my tan skin, making the pain I felt on the inside feel real somehow. Some were dark purple or red, signaling that they were new, while some had transitioned into a sickly yellow color, showing days of age.

On top of that, I had several long cuts that came from whatever Troye had in his hands at the time. Keys, a pen, his nails. Some of them looked to be pretty deep, and they had turned pink and veiny. Definitely not a good sign. That color usually meant infection, and that would also explain why I felt so terrible this morning.

The marks ran up my arms and across my chest, down my hips, danced across my shoulders and cascaded down my back. They symbolized months of torture and abuse that I could never forget.

I stared at myself, though my intentions weren't vain. I touched each little mark and bruise, bringing back the memories behind each one.

One for disagreeing with him. One for looking at our waiter for too long. Another for not greeting him at the door.

I shuddered at the memories and quickly pulled my shirt over my head, immediately starting on my socks.

Once I was done I shut off the light and started towards the living room, eager to get out of this house. Since I was still sleepy, I carelessly ran into the wall while turning the corner.

"Shit!" I whispered to myself. I payed more attention to my movements, desperate to leave without waking Troye.

My keys glinted on the hook near the door. Yes! All I had to do was get to them and then-

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Asked an angry voice from behind me.

I turned around slowly, nearly paralyzed with fear.

"Baby! I...uh...didn't know you were awake!"

His jaw was hard as he stepped closer to me. His hand raised back as he slapped me across the face. Hard.

"I asked you a question!"

Suddenly he had me cornered against the wall. I cowered in front of him, not able to take my eyes off of his enormous muscles.

"I can explain!"

He grabbed my shoulders and slammed my head into the wall. As I heard my skull crack against the plaster, stars danced in front of my eyes and my knees went wobbly. I wanted so bad to pass out from the pain.

"Damn it. My head," I mumbled. My eyes closed for a second before Troye slammed my head into the wall again and they fluttered back open.

"What. The. Hell. Are. You. Doing?"

"I-I was just...um...going to go home and get new clothes, shower, stuff like that."

The fire in his eyes didn't waver. "Are you sure that that's all you were doing? Don't you dare lie to me."

"Yeah. Yes that's all I was doing. I swear."

He stared at me for a moment, then stepped back.

"You'll be back tonight right?" He asked without facing me.

"Um I was planning on just staying home tonight."

He spun around, the fire returning to his eyes as strong as ever.

"Did you mention this to me before?"

I gulped, still trying to keep my balance. I forgot that I wasn't supposed to make decisions on my own. Everything was supposed to go by Troye first.

"No. I'm so sorry baby. Would it be alright by you if I stayed home tonight?"

Once again, he stared at me with an unimaginable amount of heat. Finally, his jaw slackened and he nodded slowly.

"Thank you."

"The minute that I call tomorrow, you better get your ass over here, do you understand me?"

"Yes. I got it."

He quickly walked towards me, and I shrunk into the wall, afraid he was going to hit me again, but instead, he planted a gentle kiss on my forehead.

"Bye Mitch," he said quietly, already turned away from me.

"Bye," I called, making sure it was loud enough so that he could hear me, otherwise I would get in trouble for not responding to him. I practically ran out the door, but I couldn't make it past the porch before I had to walk because of the throbbing pain in my head.

But more than anything, I was ecstatic to be out in my car. I started it and sped away, longing to be home and not in Troye's demented version of one.