Trapped In Flames (A Shivian fic)

Meeting | 6 ❥

content warning, talk of domestic violence

Siobhan watched the last of the steaming bath water swirl swiftly down the drain. Viv had been right, the warm comfort of the water had wrapped around her like a heated blanket, and had made the stabbing pain on her torso feel much more bearable; however now that she started to walk into Vivian's room to find a fresh set of clothing, the intense throbbing had begun again and was making her feel nauseous.
She carefully opened the wardrobe and pulled open the first drawer, which had a neat arrangement of folded hoodies and jumpers, and she picked out a large grey one. However, as she seated herself on the bed and lifted her arms to attempt to dress herself, a sharp stab of pain coursed through her body, and she cried out loudly in agony.
Within seconds, Vivian was knocking on the door.

"Is everything okay? Do you need any help?" She asked worriedly, her voice soft and muffled through the wooden door.
"Yes, please." Siobhan answered hesitantly.
Vivian slowly entered the bedroom and carefully helped Siobhan pull the fleecy sweater over her delicate body, which was covered with nothing but a thin, cotton towel.

"Thank you." Siobhan cried quietly as Viv pulled soft grey joggers over her exposed, thin legs.
She'd never been as vulnerable as she was then, and her cheeks were glowing with the red humiliation she could feel bubbling inside of her.
She couldn't stand the fact that she'd once been the embodiment of strength and formidability, and yet now she was incapable of even simply clothing herself.
Roger had stolen any dignity and power she'd once had, and had left her more helpless now than she'd ever been before.
"I went out and got you your prescription whielst you were in the bath. Hydrocodone, 1 pill every 4 hours." Vivian told her gently, passing her an amber orange bottle that rattled with the contents of small, white pills.
"Thanks again, Viv, I really appreciate it." Siobhan smiled weakly, admiring the painting of brown freckles dotted across Vivian's cheeks and nose as she gazed up at her.
Vivian tucked a stray strand of damp golden hair behind Siobhan's ear, before taking her hand in her own and leading her downstairs.

Once both women were seated on the brown, leather sofa, Viv turned to Siobhan and began to speak.
"You've done so well today, darling," she began, "and I don't want to push you any further if you aren't up for it. But, I really think that we need to talk to somebody about everything that's happened to you, and from what you've told me, for now maybe our best bet is Marjorie?" She offered the idea kindly.
Siobhan's stomach churned uncomfortably at the thought of having to let down her walls infront of another person, but she knew that there was no other direction that this could go.
Vivian noticed Siobhan's silence, and began to talk again.
"If you aren't ready today, that's fine. I can call her up now and ask for a meeting another day?" She added quickly, scared of Siobhan already being pushed to her limits.
"No," She answered firmly, "it would be futile to delay meeting with her, we can go as soon as possible."
Vivian squeezed her hand affectionately.
"Good, I'll grab my keys and we can head off now." She replied wholeheartedly.

༻❥༺

Siobhan picked at the skin around her nails nervously, this was an anxiety coping mechanism that she'd acquired recently, and her hands were now littered with anger red sores that tiny specks of burning blood were emerging from, her sharp turquoise nails breaking the scabbed barrier that had been built.
It was almost 6PM as her and Vivian approached the nursery, meaning that soon there would be no parents to interrupt the intense conversations that were to take place.
Siobhan felt winded as a sudden punch of panic assaulted her, causing her to stop dead in her tracks on the corridor.
"I'm going to go to the bathroom, one moment." She hurriedly told Vivian, giving her no time to respond as she made a swift beeline for the toilets.
Hastily, she threw herself into the first cubicle and bolted the door shut, her rapid thoughts whirling wilder as she sat on the toilet lid.
Overwhelming bullets of terror were impaling her body, and she withdrew into a catatonic state of fear and horror.