Dreamer (Currently Being Revised)

Chapter 18: Bruises ✅

"Get your ass back here now!"

He grabbed your right arm around your bicep and yanked you back into his chest, carrying you off of your feet.

"No, Michael! Let go of me!"

"Not until I'm done with you, you ungrateful bitch! Who's going to clean this shit up?!"

"I didn't cause it, you did!" His grip tightened and you cried out in pain.

"I'm glad that hurts! You deserve it, you ugly piece of trash!"

"Let go, Michael!"

He moved to the side and tossed you to the floor, your hands bracing your fall, but the shards of glass spread across the floor cut into your hands, eagerly eating their way into your flesh as you cried out again and sat up. You held your bleeding hands in front of you, shocked.

"Now its your fault, cunt! Clean it up now!"

And with that he stormed off, muttering profanities under his breath...

That and many other memories were the cause of the raw sobs that leaked from your sore throat, icy tears cutting down your cheeks and dripping off of your jaw. You sat on a set of stairs behind the Subway next to the Hospital.

Sob after sob wracked your body as you sat there, cradling your hands in your lap as you remembered how red and slick their pads had been and how discolored their wrists had become.

How could you have been so foolish?

He didn't love you. All he cared about was using you and if you did one little thing wrong he would take it out full force on you. He was always so... Vicious. And you'd been so naive and dumb you hadn't even noticed it. What if everyone else was like that? You all have your inner deamon. Would yours come to show so eagerly? Would it be barred from the sight of dear ones or let loose to terrorize and pillage those hearts lent to you?

You fisted your hands in your hair as it cascaded down and around your downturned face in tangled tendrils, the ponytail holder having fallen out in your flight.

"Am I still beautiful, Mark? Does my weakness make me look pretty?"

Atlas.
A dragon with his wings spread in the freezing rain to protect wilting flowers while knowing that by doing this he'll be dead by mourning.
Those he'd lost...
No longer worth the wait.
Why wait?
Why wish to join the dance of the dead?
When the next mourn comes, shall you join him?
To pass a blade idly by as if it were nothing?
Impossible.
A relentless yearning, and yet,
he cannot.
What's holding him back?
What's holding you back?
Is it longing?
Love?
Family?
Friends?
How many wilted flowers do you protect?
How many bruises do they hold?
Do they match yours,
Or do yours outnumber THEIRS?
Concealed by a smile, a false glow.
He falls into a routine.
No one knows.
No one.
Not truly.
For who can?
But for a fleeting moment of understanding.
A comforting embrace.
Is it worth it?
Love...

"(Y/N)..."

You flinched heavily, looking up with your hands on the steps on either side of you, ready to push off and aid in your next fleeing flight.

"Please don't run away from me... please."

You relaxed your arms, but remained rigid. What could you say? This was no doubt your worst you'd been at. How had you gotten here? Why were you being so weak? Why had it become so hard?

You both remained there. Stationary. Still. Unmoving.

You couldn't take it any more. A fresh sob threatened to escape and you crossed your arms in front of you with your elbows on your knees and buried your face in them, biting back as much as you possibly could.

Suddenly you came to notice that something was hugging your shaking frame, holding you tightly and close. You didn't feel them wrap around you but became aware of their presence. Time no longer had any meaning. You were so broken, why did the structure of time or anything matter anymore?

That's when you realized you'd corrected yourself in that question. One thing mattered to you, and that thing was Mark. You didn't know why, but he did. You couldn't bear the thought of him being hurt or broken like you.

"Why?"

Was that even your voice?

"Why what?"

You were pretty sure that was Mark's when the other voice replied.

"Why?"

"I don't have a reason, (Y/N). I hate the thought of you being so hurt. I wish I could help. You're so different than anyone else... You actually care. You obviously have every right to hate that guy in there but you don't. You came to make sure he was alright. You are pained by memories of him every day but you still smile. If I was going through something like that, I'd stay shut away from everyone, but you don't. You still actually take the time to check in on me, to hang out with me. No one has ever done that before..."

You couldn't speak. All you did was tense even further, as if you could curl up into a ball and shrink into yourself and become so small there was nothing left. He held you closer and you could hear his steady, thundering heart.

"I think that's why I care for you so deeply. I just wish wish I could take your pain away from you."

"It's okay," you managed to hiccup. How could you have ever accused him of not caring?

"I will never leave you, (Y/N)," he vowed. "I will always be here for you."