Chapter Fifty

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You can't believe you're back here. After everything, after finally escaping and getting one small taste of freedom you're here again, laying on the floor in your father's house. Your father is standing above you, kicking you in the ribs over and over again, you hear some cracking and crunching among the thuds and excruciating pain, and you curl up a little tighter, trying to shield the ribs that you're sure are broken. Your father stops, swaying in place for a moment before going to puke in a nearby trash can. You take the opportunity to bolt, as you have so many times before, but as you get to your bedroom, you realize there's no door to shut. He removed it since you had been gone, and since you had just gotten home from the trial you hadn't noticed yet. Shit. You pivot towards the bathroom but you know it's a lost cause as you can no longer hear your father heaving in the other room.
You almost make it.
He has a fistful of your hair before you quite get there and he throws you to the ground, knocking the wind out of you, and you can only lie there gasping for air as he puts his foot on your stomach and presses down.
"You thought you could beat me?" He sneers at you, pressing harder. "You thought they would lock me away and you can go fuck your stupid little boyfriend like a slut?! They know you need me to keep you in line, you're such a fucking delinquent. No wonder they didn't believe you," he stomps down hard on you one more time before he leans down and grabs your arms, hard, you nearly whimper in defeat. This is your life and it's never going to be any different.
He slams you against the wall, holding your neck with his forearm and lifting you up, pressing enough to make you gasp for air, your legs dangling below you.
"I should kill you, you know. For the disrespect you showed to me, your father! I can do anything I want to you, and no one can stop me. They proved that today!" He says with a truly malicious grin, looking you up and down, watching you gasp and struggle, watching your legs dangle, and he grins, before hitting you in the face so hard you didn't even see it coming. It was the first of many hits, and you soon could feel blood oozing out of your nose, and you hang your head in defeat. He drops you to the ground suddenly with a hard thud, and you can't help but cry out in pain. Everything hurts..... where is Newt?
Almost as if your father can sense your thoughts he stumbles over to you, whiskey in hand.
"He's not coming for you. He can't," he nearly giggles through a hiccup. "I put a restraining order on him after he brainwashed you so he's not allowed anywhere near you, or me, or this house. You are stuck here with me, forever."
You can't help but cry, laying there sobbing, each sob that racks through you causes nearly unbearably sharp pains, but it's impossible to stop. Your father crouches down to you and begins poking some of the bruises already starting to form on your body, he drains the last of the bottle and his mood darkens.
"I've tried to control you all these years, and it hasn't done a bit of good. You're still a trashy, filthy, worthless, disrespectful slut. I would be better off getting rid of you," he says almost too quietly....
Swaying as he stands he stumbles over to the end cabinet by the couch, and begins rummaging around inside. You can hardly breathe, you move to stand, but everything hurts so much that you have to move unbearably slowly, but you try to stand.
"Eh, eh, eh," you father whirls around to face you, gun in hand. He points it directly into your face as he says, "Don't move another inch."
You freeze, not even daring to breathe. You recognize the gun, he takes it to all his drug deals, whether he was buying or selling.
"Please-" you whisper at the exact same time your father pulls the trigger.
There's a loud band and a flash of light.
You drop to the ground.
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Screaming and thrashing you fight. Who you're fighting you don't, know, but they've nearly got you pinned down. Panting and sweaty you continue to try to break free, finding your limbs tangled in a blanket. Struggling to find your way out in a panic, you hear Newt's calming voice.
"Hey, shhh, (y/n,) it's just me, you're safe."
You burst into tears at the sound of his voice, and collapse into your bed, and there he is right next to you, instantly wrapping his arms around you, speaking soothing words into your ear and holding you tight, facing him curled up in his chest, he plays with your hair, continuing to talk in a calming voice, telling you he loves you, and you're safe.
He reminds you the trial was a week ago, your father will die in prison, and you're safe.
You calm down eventually breathing in time with Newt still holding you safely in his arms.
Truth be told the trial was actually incredible easy. The judge let you submit your statement in a private room with her alone, and they even brought in a therapy dog because you were so nervous. The judge was so nice, she didn't push too far, listened and asked questions. You told her everything, the drinking, the drugs, the abuse. Even some stuff you hadn't even told Newt. Well, let's be honest, there's a lot of stuff you haven't told Newt, but he looks so damn sad whenever you start to tell him something that you immediately stop, unable to bear the pained look on his face when he imagines you hurt. But you were still lucky, the judge said your testimony and the physicals from your trips to the hospital, including the last one a couple days previously to have your cast removed, were more than enough evidence to guarantee a sentence. And to top it off, the trial was just going to be his testimony and the sentencing, and you didn't even have to go at all.
It takes you a while to finally calm down enough to stop crying, but then you're suddenly a little embarrassed. You didn't want Newt to know about the nightmares, he had done so much for you and you didn't want to make him worry. Not to mention you felt embarrassed to be having a nightmare after the trial, when everything went so well.
"I'm sorry," you whisper in the dark, and Newt squeezes you tightly.
"You have nothing to be sorry about, Love," he whispers, his voice gentle. "I understand what you're going through," he hesitates for half a second before saying, "I get nightmares too, and I know they can be scary. A couple of years ago, after my dad left my mom, I felt like my world had been shattered. So I jumped off the roof of our house at the time. That's why I limp," he gestures vaguely to his leg, embarrassed. "I don't tell many people, it was a long time ago, but sometimes when I'm dreaming I'm back at that moment, falling still. I know what you went through was atrocious and I would give anything to make the pain go away, to make it so that never happened to you," he takes a deep breath. "Just know I'm ready to listen. No matter how bad it was, if you need to talk, we can lie here in the dark and you can close your eyes and tell me anything on your mind."
Unsure of whether this is a serious offer or not, you don't move for a minute, at least until Newt leans close to your face and plants a light kiss on each of your eyelids, then squeezes you close to him.
"Tell me about your dream."
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Waking up in the late morning the next day you find yourself still tucked in Newt's protective embrace, his breath slow and steady. Closing your eyes you savor this moment, the safety and comfort you feel.
But you do have to pee.
You try to worm your way out of Newt's arms without disturbing him, but he stirs awake.
"Good Morning, (y/n)," he says, with a sleepy smile on his face, pulling you even closer into him and squeezing. "How are you feeling today?" Worry etched in his brow as he leans back to look you in the eye.
"Better," you say with a smile, and you actually mean it. You told him of your nightmare and he listened the whole time, just stroking your head, or your back, or playing with your hair. You don't remember falling asleep, just laying against Newt with your eyes, until you must have worn yourself out and dozed off.
His smile widens at your smile, "You are gorgeous."
You still blush at the compliment, "Thank you, Newt."
"You're welcome. Now I really have to use the bathroom, but I plan on coming back to this exact spot, cause we have nothing to do today."
This is true, you got two weeks excused from school to deal with the trial, and Newt's mom was kind enough to excuse him to keep you company.
After you both come back to your bedroom and cuddle up against each other again, with you being the little spoon this time with Newt at your back, there's a quiet moment. Your thoughts drift to what Newt told you last night, about how he got his limp. You never knew, and hadn't wanted to ask in case the topic was sensitive, which it obviously is. The thought of him going through that makes tears begin to well up in your eyes, and you bury your head into his arms.
"What's wrong," Newt's ever-worried voice asks, but that brings another pang of sadness, has anyone ever taken care of him?
"I was thinking about what you told me last night, actually." You say, and when he doesn't say anything you continue, "I'm sorry you went through that."
"No worries," he says casually, but you turn to face him, his breathing now more uneven.
"It is worrisome, though. And I want you to know you can always talk to me, I don't want this relationship to be one sided, I want to help you as much as you help me. I'm sorry I never asked before, but it wasn't because I didn't want to know. I just didn't want to push you before you were ready." You take a deep breath to continue rambling but Newt places a single finger on your lips, shushing you.
"I didn't tell you before because I was embarrassed," he says in a whisper, "I haven't really told anybody, except Tommy and Minho of course," he adds with a smile, and you can't help but chuckle at their bromance before Newt continues, "I was especially embarrassed after I met you. Here you are, the most brilliant, stunning creature I've ever laid my eyes on, and you've gone through things I can't even fathom in my worst nightmares," he cups your cheek in his hand and you lean into it. "I couldn't believe how strong you were, and I.... I just couldn't tell you how easily I had given up before."
"Don't say that," you say, "don't say giving up, that's not right. You were in pain, and I don't blame or judge you for what you tried to do to escape that pain."
Newt takes a huge sigh of relief before settling down into your embrace, and content to leave the conversation like that in the meantime, you settle down as well, and enjoy the peace you've finally found.
"I love you, (Y/n)."
Your heart skips a beat.
"I love you, too, Newt."

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Author's Note
Hello everyone, I can't believe we're all here. If you've been with this story for a while, I'm terribly sorry to have left you all hanging for so long. I absolutely appreciate every comment all of you guys left on this story, even after I didn't update for, what was it, four, five years ago? I honestly am at a loss for words, and as an author, that's rare. I didn't have any real plan to finish this story, but I often get long streams of emails of comments on this story from some of you binging through it in a day or two, or reading it at like 2 in the morning on a weekday and you leave a little note for me. I love them, and I try to read them all, and every once in a while I would think about coming back to finish this story, but I never had a clear direction of where to take this story. Until now, at least. Inspiration strikes when inspiration strikes, and I intend to ride this wave of inspiration as far as it will go. You're welcome to join me, after all this time. 

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