desertion

118

MILES

I wake up with a start. The first thing I notice is that Lydia isn't next to me.

The room feels empty, colder somehow, without her presence. I sit up, glancing at the clock on my nightstand. 4:12 a.m. My heart skips a beat, and I turn my head toward the spot where she was lying. Her side of the bed is cold.

"Lydia?" I call softly at first, hoping she's just in the bathroom or maybe getting a glass of water. When there's no response, my voice gets louder. "Lydia?"

Still nothing.

Panic begins to creep into my chest, clawing its way up my throat. I throw the blanket off and stand, my heart pounding harder with each passing second. She's probably fine. She has to be. But I can't shake the images flashing through my mind-what if something happened to her? What if someone got to her?

I rush out of the bedroom, calling her name again, my voice starting to crack. "Lydia?!"

The house is eerily silent. My footsteps echo too loudly on the hardwood floor as I make my way down the hall. My breath quickens, and I feel like I can't get enough air.

Then I hear it.

"I'm in the kitchen," her voice calls faintly, and for a moment, I can breathe again. Relief crashes over me, but it's quickly replaced by something else-worry.

I all but sprint to the kitchen, my heart racing as I round the corner.

There she is, sitting at the table with an ice pack pressed to her head. Her posture is slouched, her expression tired. She offers me a small, soft smile, but it doesn't reach her eyes. She looks down at the floor like she's ashamed, and that's when I notice the bruises.

Her arm is discolored in patches of purple and blue, her leg has a nasty scrape down the side, and there's a cut on her cheek that's starting to swell.

"Lydia, what the hell happened?" I ask, my voice sharper than I mean for it to be.

She doesn't look at me at first. She just shrugs, her voice quiet. "I fell down the stairs. Blacked out for a bit."

My eyes widen in disbelief. "You fell? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she says, shrugging again like it's no big deal. "It's nothing serious."

I shake my head, my heart still hammering. "It doesn't look like nothing, Lydia."

I grab her hand and gently guide her to the bathroom. She doesn't resist, just follows silently as I turn on the light and grab the first aid kit from under the sink.

"Sit," I say, motioning to the closed toilet lid.

She sits down, and I crouch in front of her, carefully cleaning the cut on her cheek. She flinches a little at the sting, but she doesn't say anything.

When I'm done, I look up at her, searching her eyes. She's easy to read when she lets her guard down, and right now, there's something in her expression that puts me on edge. Fear.

"Lydia," I say softly, "what really happened?"

She meets my gaze, narrowing her eyes slightly. "I told you. I fell down the stairs."

I narrow my eyes in return. "Lydia."

She sighs, her shoulders slumping. After a moment, she looks away, and I know I've won. "Fine," she mutters. "I couldn't sleep. I didn't want to bother you, so I got up and went downstairs."

I nod, waiting for her to continue.

She hesitates, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. "While I was walking down the hall, I heard my name."

My stomach drops. "What?"

"It was a man's voice," she says, her voice barely above a whisper. "At first, it was quiet, like a whisper. Then he said it again, louder, from downstairs."

I stare at her, my mind racing.

"I thought I was imagining it," she continues, "but it felt real. Too real." She pauses, her hands clenching into fists. "I went to check, and... I don't know what happened. I guess I lost my footing or something. I fell. Blacked out."

My chest tightens as I take in her words, the fear etched into her features. I hate this. I hate how much she's gone through, how much she's still going through. And the worst part is, I can't fix it. I can't protect her from this.

I reach out, cupping her cheek gently with my hand, careful to avoid the cut. "Lydia..."

Her eyes meet mine, and for a moment, I see the cracks in her armor. She's trying so hard to hold it together, but I know she's struggling.

Without thinking, I pull her into me, wrapping my arms around her. Her head rests against my chest, and I press a kiss to the top of her head, breathing in her scent.

"I won't let anyone touch you," I whisper, my voice firm.

Whatever's going to happen, I'll make sure she's safe. Even if it kills me.