𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐔𝐑𝐓𝐒 𝐌𝐄

─ ❝ act xiv ❞

⎡ act xiv - defiance ⎦

┊❝ Are you hiding something from me? ❞┊

── THE next few weeks that passed for (Y/N) were difficult—no, more than difficult; tortuous. Everyday, even on the weekends, it seemed she was subjected to the torture and abuse led by Ian, Dylan, of Carmen. Sometimes the petty insults and repetitive, redundant chores weren't all too bad, but then there were the days where she felt like screaming. At one of her lowest moments, at the time where she felt nothing but darkness all around her, she held a knife to her wrist.

The blade was pressed against her flesh, and with just a quick cut, she would be gone.

But she couldn't do it.

The moment she allowed the blade to slice even the faintest bit of her skin, tears welled up in her eyes and she dropped the knife, feeling too cowardly to move on further as her blood beaded upon the cut before rolling down her wrist to drip along the floor. More so, she just wished desperately that perhaps, her life could change for the better.

Such wishes were futile.

Dylan and Ian were constant presences, keeping her from a moment's peace, along with keeping her from Shariah or Sawyer. In art where she sat alone with Sawyer, she stayed silent, even when he tried to talk to her, finding that if she did, the dam that was so skillfully erected would fall and she would be forced to show the hideous, raw side of herself to him. Everything felt so fragile, so painstakingly ready to break, but she forced herself to continue forward, knowing that if she did crumble, she would only be giving Dylan and Ian exactly what they wanted.

She couldn't allow that.

She would never allow that.

Now, walking to her car after another long day, she looked forward to the silence that would greet her at home. Before, she longed for her father's time and affection, but now, she was glad he was busy. At least then he wouldn't ask about the constant bruises that were hidden just enough to not arouse suspicions, or about the dead sheen in her eyes, or how much quieter she had become.

He never asked any of that.

He didn't care, and (Y/N) knew this.

Just as her fingers slid along the car's door's handle, a hand on her shoulder yanked her back before harshly spinning her around and slamming her against the vehicle. She winced at how the handle's curve dug into her back, however tempered her pain as she stared up at Dylan and Ian, followed as usual by Carmen and the rest of their group. They all snickered down at her, nothing but absolute superiority painted within their gaze.

"Yes...?" She mumbled, her voice still a bit hoarse from how much she had been crying out in pain the past couple of weeks, something that Dylan noticed and something that made his eyes curve in delight. "Is there something you need...?"

"We were just talking, (Y/N), and we all agreed that you should host us this time," Dylan hummed as he slightly leaned down toward her, loving the way she seemed to shrivel even more against her car. "We've all been hanging out respectively at each other's houses... but never once have you offered to let us hang at your place. I think we should fix that—now. What do you say?"

His eyes flickered.

As (Y/N) stared at Dylan, searching his expression, she knew his ask wasn't a question in the least, but a demand that wanted complete obedience.

And she would obey.

Just as she always did.

Just as he always expected of her.

But this time, she couldn't.

"I... can't, Dylan," she lowered her gaze, feeling her pulse pounding in her ears the longer the seconds passed between them in silence, feeling nothing but fear, anxiety, and loathing all swirling within her as a tangled ball that pressed heavily against her. "I'm sorry... but I just can't."

"You're... 'sorry?'" Dylan scoffed, his hand suddenly whipping out to grab her face and force her to look at him, his nails digging into her skin. "Lies. What do you mean you 'can't?' Are you hiding something from me? Is that what's happening, (Y/N)?"

"Dylan," Ian stepped forward to place a hand on the boy's shoulder, his grey eyes glancing around the parking lot. "Control your temper."

Dylan didn't move.

He stayed still, staring into (Y/N)'s eyes.

He didn't know why, but the thought of someone—specifically (Y/N) herself—keeping something from him didn't settle too well. In hindsight, the longer he looked at her now, the more he could see that she wasn't completely in the palm of his hand as he wanted to believe that she was. In fact, there was still a spark of defiance within her that made his fingers tremble. He wanted her to break, because then, he would be able to remold her as he liked.

She would be a perfect canvas.

Yet still, there was something that allowed her to keep resisting him.

Finally, he stepped back.

"Apologies, Ian," Dylan chuckled as he straightened out his shirt, his eyes however still on (Y/N) and the way she seemed to breath easier when he was no longer so close to her. "Thank you for snapping me out of that. However... (Y/N). You agree that we can go to your house, don't you?"

She bit her tongue.

Though he was looking at her as if he could snap her neck any moment, she couldn't allow them to see the wreck of even her personal life was.

Unfortunately, had so many other plans.

"Carmen," Dylan turned to the girl as he tossed her a pair of keys with a smirk. "You and the rest of the guys follow us. Myself and Ian will be driving with (Y/N). She'll show us a good time."

(Y/N) felt time slow.

No.

No, no, no.

They couldn't see her life.

They couldn't see how despite their presence, everything was still in shambles. They couldn't see how broken she truly was.

They couldn't.

Yet, they would, all the same.

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To be continued...