safe in my arms | solangelo au | under editing

Chapter Five

tw: self-harm, abuse

Nico

As soon as we get home, I lock myself in the bathroom and look at the note.

Any trouble, call me. Then there's a number. His handwriting is beautiful, loopy and elegant. Or, at least it is compared to my scrawling.

I can't call him... Can I?

I decide to keep the note, just in case. I feel around behind the sink until my fingers find a key. The key to the medicine box. At least, that's what Luke thinks it is. It actually contains my razor blades.

I put the note in it and stare at the blades for a minute. I haven't used them in weeks. Luke never seems to notice, and it can distract me from the internal pain, but... I know it's bad for me.

After a moment of deliberation, I grab one. I shut the box and put it back where it belongs, then stand over the sink. I hold it above my left wrist and take a deep breath. My fingers trembling slightly, I make the first cut.

Beads of red appear, and I tilt my wrist to the side. The blood runs across my arm and drips into the sink. I exhale and repeat it, closing my eyes.

Disgrace.
Traitor.
Liar.
Useless.
Waste of space.
Loser.
Pointless.
Disgusting.
Unwanted.
Unloved.
The list goes on.

When I open my eyes, I see the damage. Deep cuts go all the way up my forearm, from my wrist to just below my elbow. There's blood all over my arm. Wincing, I wash it away and carefully dry my arm. I grab a bandage and try to sort it out. I tie it messily.

Then comes the guilt. I always feel awful afterwards, knowing that the people who once cared about me would hate that. I try to shake it off, reminding myself that my actions can't hurt them. They all abandoned me, or worse.

"Nico?" Luke calls. Shit. I put the box back and run out of the room. He's standing in the centre of the living room, looking slightly disoriented.
"Luke?" I say quietly. He turns to me and frowns.
"Where were you?"
"Uh.. The bathroom." I say. That's not a lie.

He nods and walks forward in a zigzag. He smiles drunkenly and leans closer, and my suspicions are confirmed when I smell the alcohol on his breath.

How old are you again?" He asks me with a smile which sends shivers down my spine.
"Eighteen." I answer. His grin widens.
"Do you know what that means?" He asks me.
"No." I shake my head. He leans even closer.
"You're legal." He whispers

I jerk my head back, prompting him to laugh.
"Luke, no." I shake my head as he smirks. He steps closer and I step back, but he moves closer again. I find my back against the wall as he places his hands on each side of me, trapping me against the wall. He leans forward and kisses me, my struggling doing nothing.

He wraps his hands around my wrists, which hurts, and pins them above my head, holding them up with one hand and trailing the other up the inside of my thigh. I let out a muffled scream and he smirks.

"You're not scared, are you?" He teases. I almost burst into tears. I'm terrified.
"Luke, leave me alone!" I manage to push him off me and he glowers at me. Oh no. He raises his hand to slaps me, then stops. Looks confused.

He strides into the bathroom and I move away, frantically looking for a way out. A few minutes later, he strode back out again, clearly furious.
"What's this?" He asks angrily, holding up the note that the lifeguard gave to me. Shit, I forgot to lock the box!

"Nothing!" I say, panicking. His face clouds over with anger.
"Are you cheating on me?" He shouts.
"No!"
"You're lying!"
"I'm not!" He marches forward and slaps me so hard I fall over. Spots swim into my vision as he looms over me.

"Who is it?" He asks. "Who's number is this?" I consider telling him, but then think better of it.
"It's a doctor's number." I lie. He frowns.
"When did you go to the doctors?"
"It was ages ago. Years ago. Before we met." I lie frantically.

Luke drops the note dismissively.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"I didn't think it was important." I'm still laid down, vulnerable. I get to my feet unsteadily and face him.

"You should tell me everything." He says, anger bubbling.
"I'm sorry."
"Sorry doesn't fix it!" His fist connects with my stomach and I stagger back, doubled over in pain.

Through the tears welling up on my eyes, I raise my head and look up at him, feeling a sudden surge of anger. When he swings his fist again, I dodge it. He gets even angrier, and grabs the nearest object, an almost-empty glass of water. He throws it at me and it shatters against the wall behind me.

Luke continues to throw things at me, his eyes full of anger. When he runs out of things to throw, he charges at me. I dodge at the last minute and accidentally trip him over.

He falls face first into a pile of shattered glass from an ornament he threw at me. His head hits the tiled floor with a sickening crack, and blood begins to pool around it.

He doesn't get up.