Her Swimmer

Leaving

A/N: Again there is mention of abuse and being put into care

Talia's return to consciousness was slow, as if her mind was swimming through a thick fog. The first thing she became aware of was the pain—a deep, throbbing ache that pulsed through her entire body. Her face was the worst, the dull throb of where his boot had connected making it nearly impossible to think of anything else. She remained still, too terrified to move, her body frozen in place as her senses gradually sharpened.

She listened intently, her breath shallow and ragged, waiting for any sound that might indicate her father was still in the house. The silence was suffocating, every creak of the floorboards, every groan of the old house making her heart race with fear. But as the minutes stretched on, the realization began to sink in—he wasn't coming back. He had left her there, alone, to nurse the wounds he had inflicted.

Slowly, painfully, Talia forced herself to move. Each movement sent sharp stabs of pain shooting through her body, but she gritted her teeth and pushed through it. She needed to get up, needed to do something other than just lie there in her own blood and tears. She managed to roll onto her side, then gradually pulled herself up, using the bed as leverage until she was leaning against it, her breath coming in shallow, pained gasps.

Her eyes fell on the picture on her nightstand—a photo of her and her mother on a beach in Australia. The two of them were smiling, their faces lit up with joy under the bright sun. Talia was a little girl in the picture, carefree and happy, with no idea of the darkness that would one day consume her life. She stared at the picture, tears welling up in her eyes. It felt like a lifetime ago, those days of happiness with her mother, when the world was simple and filled with love.

But that life was gone now, shattered by the man who was supposed to protect her. The thought of going to the Bronze family crossed her mind, but she quickly dismissed it. She didn't want to burden them with her problems, not with Lucy's euros qualifiers and season coming up. And calling Officer McAllister was out of the question—she knew that would only lead to one thing: being put into care. The very thought of it made her chest tighten with fear. She had to find another way.

Summoning all the strength she had left, Talia forced herself to stand. She staggered toward the door, each step agony, but she kept going. Somehow, she made it out of the house and into the night, the cool air hitting her like a shock to the system. She didn't stop to think, just kept moving, driven by some desperate need to escape. Eventually, she found herself at the hospital, her vision blurry and her body trembling from pain and exhaustion.

The nurses acted quickly, guiding her to a bed, their voices calm and reassuring. But Talia barely registered their words as she lost consciousness once again

When Talia finally regained consciousness for the second time that day, she was greeted by the sterile brightness of the hospital room. Her head was pounding, and her body ached all over, but the sounds of talking nearby pulled her back into reality.

Through her half-open eyes, she saw Lucy standing beside Officer McAllister. Lucy's face was set in a determined expression, while Officer McAllister looked troubled.

"I'll take her in," Lucy was saying, her voice tight with concern. "I can take care of her. She can stay with me."

Officer McAllister shook her head, her face serious. "Lucy, even if you take her in, Talia would still need to go into care first. It's procedure. We need to ensure her safety and well-being."

The words struck Talia like a cold wave. She sat up slowly, her head swimming with dizziness and pain. "I'm not going into care," she said, her voice rough but resolute. "There's no reason to. I just fell. That's all."