The hospital room was too clean. Too quiet. Mikey lay still in the bed, skin mottled with fading bruises, an IV snaking into his arm. The sterile scent of antiseptic clung to the walls like it knew what had happened.
He stared at the ceiling, eyes glassy, jaw clenched. Everything inside him felt slow, like a record playing just a beat too late.
Three months. Three months free.
And still, Pete had found him.
Still, he hadn't made it out untouched.
A nurse had come and gone with the morning moo vitals. A social worker had knocked gently and asked if he needed anything. Mikey had shaken his head without looking up. They didn't press. He was marked in ways they understood, bruises too deliberate, silence too practiced. Trauma evident.
The door clicked again in the early afternoon, soft enough not to startle.
Dani.
She hovered just inside the room, one hand still on the door, the other wrapped protectively around the curve of her stomach. Seven or eight months now, Mikey wasn't sure. She looked better. Softer in the face, a glow even. But her eyes, when they landed on him, told the truth: she'd been crying.
"I'm sorry," she whispered.
He didn't answer right away. Couldn't.
"You didn't know," he said finally. His voice was hoarse. "He was looking for me. I knew he was."
She stepped closer, slow and careful, like approaching a wounded animal. In some ways, that's exactly what he was.
"He always does," she murmured, sitting at the edge of the bed. "He can't stand not having control."
Mikey looked away, throat tight.
"I pressed charges," he said. "I didn't wait this time."
Dani reached out, her fingers brushing his gently. He didn't pull back, but he didn't lean in, either.
"I'm proud of you."
It didn't feel like pride. It felt like survival. Like bleeding through your shirt and still walking.
"I keep asking myself why I waited," he admitted. "Why I didn't leave sooner."
Dani nodded slowly, gaze distant. "I ask myself that too. Every day."
The silence between them stretched, thick, shared, understood.
Outside the window, the sun dipped low. Golden light cut through blinds in slatted lines across the floor, and for the first time in a long while, Mikey didn't feel like he had to run.
Not today.
But tomorrow...
Tomorrow, he'd start over.
Dani stayed until the sun was nearly gone, casting long shadows across the linoleum. They didn't speak much more. They didn't need to. Her presence was enough. It was steady, human and known. When she stood to leave, Mikey finally looked up at her fully.
"Do they know where he is?" he asked, quiet.
"They're holding him," she said, her tone clipped but calm. "No bail this time. Restraining order's already in place."
Mikey nodded, slowly. The knot in his chest didn't loosen, but it shifted, just slightly, like something was finally being made real.
He watched her hand drift down to her belly again, fingers spread protectively.
"You sure you're safe?" he asked.
Dani's face flickered, a glimpse of the truth, just for a moment. Then she gave the same smile he used to give Pete. Small. Polite. False. Forced.
YOU ARE READING
That's What You Get
FanfictionMikey thought love was supposed to hurt. That if he just held on tightly enough, things would go back to how they used to be. But the longer he stayed, the harder it became to tell where devotion ended and survival began. Now, the silence between br...
