Crossing boundaries

68.

Becky's PoV
I was standing in the room, my back pressed against the door as I shut it behind us. The dim light cast long shadows on the walls, making everything feel more oppressive, more claustrophobic. Freen stood a few feet away, her eyes glistening with tears, her face bruised from the slap. The sight of her, so broken, so vulnerable, made my heart ache in ways I didn't know were possible.

She looked at me, and in that instant, all the strength she had been clinging to crumbled. Freen's shoulders shook as she began to cry, her sobs filling the room with a kind of pain that was almost tangible. "I'm so sorry, Becky... I'm so sorry you had to see that... I'm so sorry you had to go through this..." Her voice trembled, each word laced with guilt and sorrow.

It broke me to see her like this, to hear her apologizing for something that wasn't her fault. She kept saying sorry, over and over, as if she could somehow make it better, as if she could take away the hurt with those words. But all it did was make me want to hold her tighter, to shield her from the world, from everything that had happened.

I couldn't stand to see her in so much pain. I moved toward her, closing the distance between us, and wrapped my arms around her, pulling her into a tight embrace. "It's okay, Freen," I whispered, my voice shaking with the effort to keep it steady. "We're in this together. You don't have to be sorry. You don't have to go through this alone."

She clung to me like I was her lifeline, her sobs muffled against my shoulder. I stroked her back gently, trying to soothe her, trying to be strong for her even though my own heart was breaking. I hated seeing her like this, hated that she had to endure so much pain.

After a few minutes, her sobs began to quiet down, her breathing evening out as the exhaustion took over. We moved to the bed, where I laid down beside her, pulling her close. Freen rested her head on my arm, her body curled into mine, and I continued to stroke her back, my fingers tracing gentle patterns on her skin.

But even as her breathing slowed and she drifted off to sleep, I could feel the tremors that still wracked her body, the way she clung to me like she was afraid I might disappear. I could see the swollen jaw, the bruise that marred her beautiful face, and it tore at me. I had to be strong for her, but the sight of her like this, so fragile and hurt, was too much to bear.

As I watched her sleep, the tears I had been holding back finally began to spill over. I had stayed strong for her, had kept it together while she needed me, but now, in the quiet of the night, with only the sound of her breathing to fill the silence, I couldn't hold it in anymore. I sobbed quietly, my heart breaking for her, for everything she had gone through, for the fact that I couldn't protect her from this.

She mumbled in her sleep, her words incoherent but filled with fear, and I could feel her shivering. Her jaw was swollen, and every time I looked at it, it felt like a punch to my own gut. How could anyone hurt her like this? How could they not see how precious she was?

I held her tighter, wishing I could take away all her pain, wishing I could make everything better. But all I could do was be there for her, hold her through the night, and hope that somehow, we would find a way to heal from this.

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