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Bullshit. I call absolute bullshit.
That bruise on Blair wasn't from some 'play fight.' Who does she think she's fooling? Who pisses on my back and tells me it's rain?
I've known Blair long enough to read her like a book, and if she thought she could brush this off with a laugh and a half-hearted excuse, she didn't know how closely I was paying attention. If it was play fighting, Connor needed to learn what the hell the word "gentle" even meant, because Jesus Christ,a bruise like that doesn't come from just messing around. That bruise was deep—purple and angry, like it had been done with intent.
Wanker.
I grit my teeth as I sat there, listening to her stumble through the explanation she clearly hadn't thought through. Part of me wanted to shake her, to force her to just see what was happening, to see the truth that was right in front of her. She couldn't keep brushing this off, making excuses for him. But every time I opened my mouth to say something, I could see that look in her eyes. That quiet plea, the fear that was barely masked beneath her smile. She didn't want to talk about it. And that hurt more than anything.
I loved Blair. I mean, of course I did. How could I not? She was my best friend, practically my sister, but this? This was killing me, watching her go through this and pretend like it was fine. Watching her stay with him—Connor, that prick—was like watching her slowly drown, and no matter how hard I reached out, she wouldn't take my hand. I'd seen it before. Not exactly like this, but close enough. I've watched this kind of story play out, and I know how it ends.
And it's never good.
I know, deep down in the pit of my stomach, that it's only going to get worse. And I hate that. I hate thinking it, hate saying it,but it's the truth, isn't it? I wish it wasn't. God, I wish more than anything that I could be wrong, that Connor was just a decent guy who had a bad moment, but we all know that's not what's going on here. The guy's a walking red flag, and it's only a matter of time before he starts showing his true colors more and more.
I could see it, clear as day, even if Blair couldn't—or didn't want to. I could see the way Connor looked at her sometimes, like he owned her, like she was his possession instead of his girlfriend. The way his hand would tighten just a little too much around her wrist when she said something he didn't like. The way he laughed off things that were far from funny, making her feel small. Like she was in the wrong for being hurt. Gaslighting. That's what this was.
He was controlling her, bit by bit, wearing her down like a constant drip of water on stone. It was subtle, sure, but it was there. I saw it every time they were together, and I saw it in her eyes when she wasn't. She used to be so full of life, so vibrant. But now? Now it was like she was dimming, like she was fading into someone else's shadow.
And I'm not going to stand by and let that happen.
I clenched my fists, trying to keep my voice steady as I looked at her. "Blair... are you sure that's how it happened?" My words were soft, but the tension in my throat was making it hard to speak. I knew the answer before she even opened her mouth, but I needed to ask, needed to give her one more chance to be honest with me, with herself.
She blinked, her gaze flickering down for a moment before she forced a smile. "Yeah. Of course. It's nothing. I'm just clumsy, you know that."
Clumsy?That word stung, because it was the same word she'd used the last time, and the time before that. Clumsy. It was becoming her favorite excuse. But I wasn't buying it, not anymore.
"I don't remember you hitting your side, Blair," I said, trying to keep my voice gentle even though frustration was burning in my chest. I could see her stiffen, her smile faltering just a little. "We were together all day. If something like that happened, I'd remember it."
Her eyes flashed with something—panic, maybe? Or guilt? I couldn't quite tell, but it was enough to make my stomach twist. "I did," she insisted, her voice a little sharper now, more defensive. "I told you, it was nothing."
"Blair," I sighed, running a hand through my hair as I sat down beside her. "I follow you around twenty-four-seven. I would've noticed if you'd hit something that hard. We would've laughed about it, right? So really... how did it happen?"
Her silence was louder than any response she could've given. She looked down at her hands, twisting her fingers together, the tension in her shoulders making it clear she was fighting an internal battle. She didn't want to lie to me. I knew that. But she wasn't ready to admit the truth either, and that was what scared me the most.
She bit her lip, her voice barely a whisper. "I told you already. It's fine."
But it wasn't fine. Not even close. My heart ached, watching her retreat back into her shell, watching her choose him over her own safety, over the truth. She was protecting him. And that made me sick. She was protecting the one person who was hurting her the most, and no matter how much I wanted to protect her, to shield her from all of this, I couldn't do it for her.
I wanted to scream, to shout, to shake some sense into her. But I knew that wouldn't help. It would only push her further away, make her dig her heels in deeper. She wasn't ready to hear what I had to say, not yet. So instead, I just sat there, biting my tongue, my chest tightening with every second that passed in silence.
But the anger? The frustration? It was boiling inside me, like a volcano just waiting to erupt. Because deep down, I knew what was coming. I knew it would get worse. And I hated that I couldn't stop it.
I loved Blair, of course I did, but I couldn't watch this happen to her. I couldn't stand by and pretend everything was fine when it so clearly wasn't. Connor wasn't good for her. He was toxic, manipulative, and eventually... he'd break her. And that thought made me feel sick to my stomach. Because I knew, no matter how much I tried to convince her otherwise, no matter how much I tried to be there for her, in the end... it was her choice.
But God, I just wished she'd leave him before it was too late. Before the bruise wasn't just a bruise.
