A/N: Nicholas is Lyle. Cooper is Erik.
You sat on your bed scrolling through your phone when it buzzed with a new message. It was from Erik:
"Can you come over?"
The short text felt different than his usual ones. There was no joke, no casual tone. Just the bare, urgent words. Something felt wrong. Without replying, you threw on a hoodie, grabbed your shoes, and climbed out your bedroom window, keeping quiet so no one would hear. You weren't about to waste time sneaking out the front door. Erik needed you, and you weren't going to leave him waiting.
The Menendez house was quiet, almost eerily so. Even at this late hour, there was usually some noise-Kitty cleaning, Lyle on the phone, or the faint sound of Jose's TV in his study. But tonight, nothing. You crept toward the side of the house, knowing the way to Erik's window by heart.
When you reached his room, you froze for a moment. The lights were off, but the faint sound of muffled sobbing reached your ears. Your heart dropped. You carefully pushed the window open, whispering,
"Erik? It's me."
But as you climbed halfway through, your stomach turned. You stopped dead in your tracks, the scene before you chilling you to your core.
Jose was standing over Erik, gripping his wrist tightly. Erik was trembling, his face red and streaked with tears, barely able to look up. Jose's voice was low, menacing, but it was the way he was leaning over Erik—too close, far too close-that made your blood boil. His other hand rested on Erik's thigh, pressing down, holding him in place as Erik squirmed helplessly.
You realized what you were seeing, and the horror of it hit like a punch to the gut. Erik wasn't just crying-he was begging, whispering broken pleas for his father to stop.
"Get away from him!" you yelled, adrenaline kicking in. You shoved yourself through the window with more force than you realized, stumbling into the room.
Jose turned to you, startled. For a moment, his grip on Erik loosened, and you saw your chance. Without thinking, you grabbed Jose by the shoulder and shoved him as hard as you could. He staggered back, his face twisting in anger.
"Get out!" Jose roared, his voice booming through the room.
But you didn't care. You turned to Erik, who had curled into himself, shaking violently. "Erik, come on," you said, reaching for him. Your voice softened despite the rage building in your chest. "We have to go. Now."
He hesitated for a moment, like he couldn't believe this was real, but then his hand shot out, gripping yours tightly. Together, you bolted for the door, ignoring Jose's furious shouting behind you.
As you reached the stairs, you nearly collided with Kitty, who stood in the kitchen stirring something on the stove. She looked up, her expression calm, almost detached.
"What's all the noise about?" she asked casually, as if nothing unusual was happening.
You froze, trying to catch your breath, Erik's hand still tightly gripping yours. Before you could respond, Lyle stepped out of the living room, his eyes narrowing at the sight of you both.
"What the hell is going on?" he demanded. His voice was sharp, but his eyes softened when he saw Erik's tear-streaked face.
You didn't hold back. "Your father was—he was hurting Erik. I saw him. He was-" Your voice cracked, unable to finish the sentence.
Erik let out a choked sob, pressing closer to you as if trying to disappear.
"What?" Lyle's voice was low, dangerous. He stepped closer, his jaw clenched. "What the f*** do you mean, hurting him?"
"Exactly what it sounds like!" you shouted, anger and panic bubbling over. "He was assaulting him! He had his hands all over him!"
Lyle turned pale, his fists clenching so tightly his knuckles turned white. His breathing grew heavier, and he looked like he was about to explode.
You spun around to face Kitty, who hadn't moved an inch. "And you," you snapped, your voice dripping with fury. "You knew, didn't you?"
Kitty's face faltered for a moment, but then she sighed, looking away. "It's... complicated," she muttered.
"Complicated?" you repeated, your voice rising. "Your husband is a monster, and you're standing here like it's no big deal? You're supposed to protect him-he's your son!"
Erik flinched at your words, burying his face in his hands. Lyle stepped forward, his voice booming.
"You knew this was happening?" he yelled at her. "And you just let it? What the f*** is wrong with you?"
Kitty crossed her arms, her expression hardening. "You don't understand," she said sharply. "It's not that simple."
"Not that simple?" you spat. "Your husband is abusing Erik, and you think it's too complicated to stop him? You're disgusting!"
"You're just as guilty as he is," Lyle growled. His voice was shaking, but it was filled with rage. "You stood there and let him hurt us, hurt Erik! You're pathetic!"
"Don't you dare talk to me like that," Kitty snapped, finally showing some emotion. But it was too late-neither of you cared about her excuses.
"You're a coward," you shouted, stepping closer. "You don't deserve to be called a mother!"
Lyle turned to Erik, who was still trembling beside you. "We're leaving," he said firmly. "We're not staying here another second."
"Lyle-" Kitty started, but he cut her off.
"Don't you dare say my name," he snarled. "You don't get to say anything after what you've done."
Grabbing Erik's other hand, Lyle led the three of you out of the house. As you stepped outside, the cold air hit you, but it didn't matter. You were free—free from that horrible house, at least for now.
Lyle helped Erik into the backseat of his car, and you climbed in next to him, holding his hand tightly. Erik leaned against you, his body still shaking, but you could feel the smallest bit of relief in his grip.
As Lyle started the car, he muttered under his breath, "We're not going back. I'll kill him before I let this happen again."
You didn't respond, but in your heart, you knew one thing: none of you could ever go back to that house. Not after this. You'd figure it out-together. Whatever it took, you'd keep Erik safe.
