Fight or Fall

14

I had just finished showering, the hot water finally easing some of the tension from my muscles, though not the turmoil in my mind. Marcus had given me a spare top, a huge, oversized thing that hung off me like a tent. It wasn't flattering, but it was comfortable, and right now, comfort was all I wanted.

As I walked into the kitchen, the smell of something cooking—probably Marcus's attempt at dinner—filled the air. Marcus was at the stove, his face lighting up with a soft smile when he saw me. Ryan, on the other hand, was sitting at the table, his eyes narrowing as he took in the sight of me. His gaze was intense, almost accusatory, and it made me feel small, exposed.

"Lyra, can we talk?" Ryan's voice was clipped, but there was a note of desperation behind it.

I hesitated, glancing at Marcus, who gave me a reassuring nod. "Yeah, sure."

We stepped outside into the cool evening air, away from Marcus's concerned eyes. Ryan's expression was a mix of frustration and worry, and I could feel the weight of his gaze as he tried to piece together what had been going on.

"So, what's the deal?" Ryan asked, his voice laced with tension. "You've been skipping school, getting high, and you show up looking like you've been through hell. What's going on with you?"

I rubbed my arms, feeling suddenly exposed. I didn't want to delve into the details, not now. "I've been... having a rough time. Things at home aren't great."

Ryan's eyes softened momentarily as he looked at the bruises peeking out from under my oversized top, but he didn't press on that. Instead, he focused on the bigger picture. "Rough time doesn't even begin to cover it, does it?"

I could feel my chest tightening, the floodgates threatening to burst. "Stop asking me these things, Ryan. You don't get to just waltz in and demand answers!"

Ryan's frustration boiled over, his voice rising. "I care about you, damn it! I care about what's happening to you. When I saw you last night, all I could think about was how you looked like you were falling apart. And I was angry because I couldn't do anything to help you."

The raw emotion in his voice caught me off guard, and for a moment, I saw the vulnerability behind his tough exterior. It was a side of him I hadn't seen before, and it made me feel both guilty and overwhelmed.

"I don't want your pity," I snapped, trying to keep my composure. "I don't want anyone's pity. I'm just trying to get through each day, and right now, that's hard enough without having to explain myself."

Ryan ran a hand through his hair, his frustration evident. "It's not pity, Lyra. It's concern. I don't know what's going on with you, but I want to understand. I want to help, even if you think you don't need it."

His words hit me harder than I expected, and I felt a lump forming in my throat. I wanted to push him away, to tell him to leave me alone, but part of me wanted to reach out and grab onto whatever support he was offering.

"I don't know how to fix this," I said quietly, the anger draining from my voice. "I don't know how to fix anything."

Ryan's expression softened further, and he took a step closer. "You don't have to fix anything right now. Just let us be here for you. Let us help you through this."

I looked away, fighting back tears. "I don't know if I can."

Ryan reached out, gently placing a hand on my shoulder. "Just take it one step at a time. We'll figure it out together."

I nodded slowly, the weight of his words sinking in. It was hard to accept help, hard to let someone in when I felt so broken. But maybe, just maybe, I could try. For now, I would take comfort in the fact that someone cared enough to ask, to try and understand.

Ryan gave me a small, reassuring smile before we headed back inside, where Marcus was waiting, his eyes filled with a mix of hope and worry. It was a small step, but for now, it was enough.