Senseless

going down

My eyes drifted open and I felt myself swinging. Cold air hit places on my legs and ankles and I jumped, looking around. The arms around me tightened and I looked up through the blinding light to see a pair of steel colored eyes. I began writhing, trying to get free, when pain hit me everywhere in my body.

I touched my face only to flinch from the pain. "Mm," I said, trying to form words. My throat was scratchy and my body ached. "W-water..." We paused by a bench and he sat down before laying me across, my head on his shoulder. I found that I hardly had the strength to lift it.

He had a water bottle, which he was probably drinking from, and I took it gladly and drained it. As my mind began to slowly clear and the grogginess began to fade, memories came crashing through my skull with alarming force.

"Nash," I said, running my hands through my hair. "It was Dalton... Dalton, he—"

"Yeah, I know," he said. Anger was rolling off him in waves. "What exactly happened?"

"I blacked out at some point," I murmured. "He just hit me. He kicked and hit over and over again, and I don't remember anything else," I said, feeling tears. Why did I keep crying? I'd have to ask my doctor about that. "He beat me," I finished. My voice was practically a whimper. So weak. Maybe I needed food and wouldn't sound like a crying child anymore.

Nash was so angry, but he didn't say anything. His jaw was clenched, his fists closed tight while he stared ahead. His usually calm, steel eyes were storming behind the blue and his hair looked as if he'd been messing with it all night. There were bags under his eyes, and I wondered if he'd even slept.

"How'd you find me?" I rasped.

His gaze reluctantly moved down to my face and his anger seemed to intensify. "I waited outside so I could make sure you got home. When the sun started to come up and you still weren't home, I got my car to go find you. I parked down close to the mall, where you left. Took me a while to find you, slumped over behind a dumpster and bleeding."

I felt my eyes to see that one was swollen shut, and the other was almost there. "He was drunk, Nash," I tried, knowing all Nash wanted to do was hit someone and that someone was probably Dalton. "And angry about losing."

"He can handle it like a man and at least keep the honor of fighting, anyway!" Nash exclaimed. I rose from my place and felt my legs turn to jelly. It ached for me to even stand, and one leg completely buckled underneath me. "It's probably broken. I need to get you to a hospital."

"I'm fine."

"No. Let's go." He picked me up as if I were a feather and walked briskly towards the mall. We received alarmed looks from the few pedestrians there were and I glared at Nash. He was making a scene.

I could see it on a news article: "Girl found behind dumpster, beaten nearly to death, carried to safety by heroic Nash Michaelson." Biting my lip, I pulled the car door open and pushed him off me so I could hop in.

In the passenger seat, I found it hard to sit properly because I felt a stinging sensation in my lower back when pressure was on my butt. "I think he hit me in the back or something," I muttered, feeling the muscle.

We drove to the hospital and I felt his anger slowly declining. I assured him over and over that I was really okay, when I felt like death himself without all the emo stuff. I really did hurt all over, and had to push down the urge to cry due to the pain.

A few minutes after we arrived, I found myself in a private room with Nash sitting on a couch. "Call your dad," he ordered.

I did so and waited for him to pick up. "Sabine, I'm at work, can't this wait?"