Forever and Always | Max Verstappen *ੈ✩‧₊˚

I said I'm fine

Monaco 10th June 2019
The drive home was unbearably quiet.

Max stole glances at Emma every few seconds, his heart aching at how composed she looked.

She sat with her hands folded in her lap, staring blankly out the window.

There was a hollow stillness about her, one that made him feel helpless.

"You sure you wanted to leave the hospital?" he asked softly.

She nodded without looking at him. "I just... I need to be home. Hospitals make me uncomfortable."

Her voice was steady, almost too steady.

Max gripped the steering wheel tighter.

He hated this wall she was putting up, but he couldn't blame her.

When they pulled into the driveway, he immediately got out and walked over to her side, opening her door.

"You okay to walk? Do you want me to help?" he asked gently.

She shook her head. "I'm fine, Max. Really."

There it was again—fine.

She kept saying it over and over again. Like it was some mantra.

He followed her into the house, watching her every move.

She seemed so put together.

"I'm going to go shower," she said as they walked in.

"Alright," he said.

She nodded and disappeared into the bathroom, shutting the door softly behind her.

Emma locked the door and leaned against it, her breath shaky.

She turned to face the mirror, her reflection catching her off guard.

Her breath hitched as she took in the bruises covering her neck and shoulders, the faint red marks on her wrists, the scratches on her arms.

Her skin told a story she didn't want to read.

She stepped closer to the mirror, her fingers trembling as she traced the dark purple marks on her stomach.

The bruises felt like Dylan was still there, like he'd left a part of himself on her.

Her knees buckled, and she gripped the edge of the sink for support.

A sob escaped her lips.

She slapped her hand over her mouth, trying to stifle the sound.

She didn't want Max to hear her.

She didn't want anyone to hear her.

She didn't want anyone to know how she was feeling, how dirty she felt, how utterly destroyed she was.

The sobs came harder, her shoulders shaking as she sank to the cold tile floor.

She could still feel him, his touch crawling over her.

She wrapped her arms around her knees, burying her face, hoping the pain would just stop.

Eventually, she forced herself to stand, though her legs felt like they might give out beneath her.

She turned on the shower, stepped under the spray, the warm water cascading over her bruised skin.

She grabbed the loofah and poured soap onto it, scrubbing at her arms, her shoulders, her neck.

Her movements were frantic.

She scrubbed harder, her skin turning red, the loofah scratching against her bruises.