The War.

Chapter 16: Broken.

⚠️ !! HUGE TW FOR DOMESTIC ABUSE, VIOLENCE AND BLOOD !! ⚠️

this one is very sad so proceed with caution.
thank you to Belle_WritesBooks for suggesting and helping me with how to write this <33

also you can thank shivianmentionedd  for this being sad x

!!AND NO IM NOT DOING SHIBBY X STELLA SHIVIAN FOR LIFE!!

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Siobhan finished her meal, feeling incredibly grateful. She hadn't eaten a proper meal in a long time, thanks to Roger's cruel control over her, denying her even the basics like food.

She glanced over at the clock on the wall and felt a wave of panic wash over her. Roger had given her a strict time to be back, and she realized it was already an hour past that. She could feel her heart pounding as she thought about what he'd do if she didn't get back soon.

Stella noticed this quickly. She had a knack for reading people, and Siobhan was no exception. Usually, she didn't care much—or at all—about others' concerns. But there was something about the way Siobhan's eyes kept darting to the clock, her fingers nervously tapping on the table. Stella raised an eyebrow, "Everything okay?" she asked, her voice calm but probing.

Siobhan forced a small smile and nodded, trying to hide the anxiety tightening her chest. She couldn't afford to show weakness, especially not in front of Stella.

"Yeah... yeah, I'm fine," she said, her voice barely masking her unease.

Stella wasn't entirely convinced but before she could probe further,

Siobhan hurriedly added, "I need to go." Her voice was tinged with urgency and worry.

"Go ahead," Stella replied, watching as Siobhan quickly made her exit.

- - -

Siobhan made her way home, desperately trying to hold back her tears. Her thoughts were consumed with dread about what Roger might do to her. As she approached the imposing mansion, she took a deep breath, her heart pounding in her chest. She paused for a moment outside the grand door, mentally bracing herself for the confrontation she was about to face. With a trembling hand, she finally opened the door and stepped inside, trying to steady her nerves as she prepared for the worst.

"What took you so long?!" Roger yelled as soon as Siobhan walked in.

Her heart raced, and she took a deep breath, desperately trying to come up with a plausible excuse. She couldn't let him find out she had been eating at Stella's.

"Stella just wanted to talk to me," she said, her voice steady despite the nerves coursing through her. She tried to project confidence, but inside, she was bracing herself for his reaction.

"I told you to be home by 7 p.m. It's 8:30!" Roger shouted, his voice laced with anger. "Stella doesn't talk that much," he added coldly, his disdain evident.

"I swear that's what happened," Siobhan said, her voice wavering as she tried to keep her composure.

"Are you calling me a liar?!" Roger's voice thundered through the room. He stood up abruptly, his anger palpable, and took deliberate steps toward Siobhan.

She felt her heart race faster with each step he took, her eyes darting around as she instinctively took small, retreating steps to maintain some distance. "No, no, of course not!" she stammered, her voice trembling despite her efforts to stay calm. The fear in her eyes was unmistakable, and she could barely keep herself from breaking down completely.

"You were with other men, weren't you?!" Roger bellowed, his face twisted with rage. Siobhan's eyes widened, filling with tears as she shook her head vehemently.

"No, I would never!" she pleaded, her voice breaking with desperation. But her denial only seemed to fuel his anger.

Without warning, Roger shoved her hard, sending her crashing to the floor. Pain shot through her side as she hit the ground, her breath knocked out of her. She could feel the sting of tears spilling down her cheeks, but she bit her lip to stop herself from crying out.

"You cheating bitch," he spat, towering over her with a look of pure malice. "I'll show you what happens when you don't listen to my orders." He loomed closer, his shadow falling over her as he raised his hand, ready to strike.

"Please stop!" Siobhan begged, her voice barely a whisper as she lay crumpled on the floor. Her pleas were met with indifference as Roger's rage continued unabated. Each blow seemed to amplify his fury, and her cries for mercy were drowned out by the sound of his anger.

Minutes felt like hours as Roger beat her mercilessly. By the time he finally stopped, Siobhan was a mess of blood and bruises, barely conscious on the floor. Her vision blurred, and her breaths came in ragged gasps. The room spun around her as darkness began to close in.

Satisfied, Roger turned on his heel, ignoring the sight of her battered form. He grabbed a case of beer from the kitchen counter, his face set in grim satisfaction. Without a second glance, he walked out of the house, leaving Siobhan alone and broken on the floor.

She began to sob violently, her body shaking with the force of her cries. Desperation and fear overwhelmed her as she lay on the cold floor, feeling utterly helpless. She needed to escape from Roger's abuse, but her mind raced with doubts. Who could possibly help her? Who would care enough to intervene?

Each sob seemed to echo her hopelessness, her thoughts spiraling into a dark abyss of loneliness. She felt trapped, not just by Roger's physical presence but by the crushing weight of her own isolation. The fear of being utterly alone in her struggle was almost as painful as the abuse itself.

Siobhan mustered the strength to stand and stumbled toward the bathroom. She looked at her reflection in the mirror, her face streaked with tears, and examined the bruises and scars that marred her once-clear body. Each mark told a story of pain and suffering, a brutal reminder of her entrapment.

As she washed her face and tried to steady her breathing, she couldn't help but wonder how different her life could have been if she had managed to escape Roger sooner. Her thoughts were filled with regrets and "what-ifs," each one amplifying her sense of loss and desperation. The thought of a life free from his control seemed like a distant dream, almost too far to reach.

She dragged herself to the bed, each step heavy with exhaustion. As she lay there, feeling practically lifeless, her body a patchwork of scars and bruises, her mind was flooded with thoughts she couldn't push away. Staring blankly at her battered reflection in the cracked mirror across the room, she couldn't help but think of all the ways things could've been different.

What if she had run away from Roger before the war started? What if she had left? Maybe she wouldn't be in this nightmare. Maybe she would have been somewhere safe, somewhere far away from all of this. A place where her body wasn't a battlefield, and her heart wasn't a warzone. She could have been free—free from Roger, free from fear. The weight of these lost chances bore down on her, and a single tear escaped, trailing down her face and onto her pillow.

I was supposed to leave. I was supposed to leave... with Vivian.