Can't go back

11

Hey -John

What’s wrong? -SH

Just because I text you automatically means something’s wrong? -J

Is something wrong? -SH

[Delayed] He’s shouting again. I think he’s had too much to drink.-J

He’s yelling about me.-J

Are you alright? -SH

Yeah. He’s not taking it out on me, just ranting for now.-J

He’s getting worse... -J

My offer for you to come over still stands. -SH

I don’t even know where you live. -J

[Address disclosed] -SH

That’s too far to walk. -J

I’ll be fine. He’s not that bad. -J

Get a cab. I’ll pay if you need. -SH

I’ll be fine Sherlock. -J

You wouldn’t have texted me if you thought that. -SH

Are you worried? Scared? -SH

No. -J

You’re lying. -SH

Come over before you get hurt. -SH

[No Response]

John? Please. -SH

[Delayed] Give me a little bit. I’ll be over. -J

Promise? -SH

Promise. -J

I set my phone down on my bed and pulled out a duffel bag to start packing, trying my best to block out the sounds of my dad. My mom was out there with him, and I was a terrible person for letting her deal with him alone. It had been like I thought it would. The first few days they had been welcoming me back as I settled back in. My dad was almost pleasant when around me, though granted that wasn’t that often. He stayed away from me and I kept away from him as much as possible. Christmas itself was nice. Happy. Like before. And then here we were a few days later, and everything plummeted.

I stuffed some things in my bag before zipping it up and slinging it over my shoulder. I peeked out my door, but didn’t see him. He must be in the living room. I snuck out and crept to Harry’s room, knocking lightly on the door once before letting myself in.

"Harry?" I asked into the seemingly empty room. A small squeak came from behind the bed. I poked my head back to see my sister wedged up between the headboard and the wall. "Harry, it’s okay, it’s just me. Come here." I helped her climb out and into my arms. "Come here, I’ve got you."

"I missed you," she said quietly, hugging me tight.

"I’m sorry. How bad has dad been? He hasn’t hurt you since I’ve been gone, has he?"

"Only a little at the beginning," Harry said, playing with the hem of the dress she was wearing. "I’ve gotten good at hiding since. He only does it if I happen to be there." I kissed her forehead lightly. My little sister. "Why’ve you got that bag?"

I looked down at the bag and felt guilty about leaving her alone, but it was a bad idea to stay, and I already promised Sherlock. "I’m going over to a friend’s so I don’t have to deal with him. Will you be okay without me?"

Harry gave a little nod and gave me tight smile that said she really didn’t want me to go. "I’ll be fine. Promise."

"He’s mad at me, so he shouldn’t bother you. If he does, hide. Do you have a friend’s house to go to if he gets too bad?"

She gave me another nod. "I’ll be fine John. Don’t worry."

"You’re my little sis. Of course I’ll worry." I kissed the top of her head again. "I’ll be back towards the end of break, okay?" She nodded and smiled a little before pushing me towards the door. I cracked the door open and peeked out. I could still hear him, but from where I was standing I couldn’t see him. He must be in the living room. Which I would have to go past to get to the door. Shit. I quietly padded my way to the living room, pausing at the entrance. I could hear my dad more clearly now. He had moved off the topic of me (thankfully), but was still drunk and yelling. I peeked my head into the room. His hands were gesturing wildly, his steps just slightly unsteady. My mom was in there with him, holding up her hands in a placating manner and trying to calm him down. I was couldn’t seem to focus on his words as he backed my mother up towards the wall. He grabbed her by the shoulder and drew his hand back and she cringed when she saw it coming.

"Mom!"

Dad stopped, hand in midair, and both turned to look at me. "John?" my mom mouthed surprised. She was shoved back by Dad who turned on me instead.

"What do you think you’re doing boy?" Shit. Shitshitshit. I turned to run for the door. It wasn’t too far, maybe I could make it. I slammed into the door, turning the knob frantically and not fully understanding at first why it wouldn’t open. Locked I finally realized. It was locked. I didn’t have time to find a key with my dad advancing on me. I turned to face him and stood up straight, bracing myself for the inevitable.

I don’t know when he finished with me. I remember picking myself off the floor, digging out a key, and staggering out the door. I stumbled out to a main road and was able to quickly catch a cab. The cabbie asked me tons of questions but I ignored them, only giving him Sherlock’s address. I almost passed out in the back seat. The pain was getting worse and more noticeable by the second. Eventually we pulled up. After seeing the state I was in the cabbie helped me to the door. I was leaning heavily on him when he rang the door.

A few minutes passed with no answer. He rang the bell again. Nothing. Had I got the wrong address? I had no idea what I would do if I had the wrong address. My thoughts had all been concentrated on getting here, staying safe. What if this wasn’t where I was supposed to be?

The door opened, and I was relieved to see him standing in front of me, Sherlock, my boyfriend. He was blurry- or maybe that was due to the injuries, that’d make more sense- swimming before me, and I had to blink several times to keep my eyes open enough to even see him. "Sherlock?" I murmured before falling forward into Sherlock who thankfully caught me.

 ***

This is only about half of what I wanted to put in, but it made a nice split so figured you get this now and you get the rest later.