a little collection

21

*small bit of abuse, skip if sensitive!*

"hey, don't run away from me!" he shouts from behind me. i keep running, tears streaming down my face, my arm and neck throbbing from where he grabbed me. i have no idea where i'm going to go. i blindly run through the tears, my legs and chest burning from pressure, fear, and speed.

"cara?" someone calls, and i look to see troye in his car, driving in time to my speed. he lays his eyes on the red hand print embossed on my neck, and my tear-soaked face, his expression becoming more and more furious.

"get in the car. now." he says gravely, opening the passenger door.

"CARA DON'T YOU DARE GET IN THAT CAR!" i hear him roar, and i swiftly climb into the seat, and i've barely closed the door as he pulls away. i see the empty shell of what used to be my father race after the car in the rear view mirror, and then he stops in the middle of the road. he turns around, kicking a stop sign on the way.

when troye knows that he isn't chasing us anymore, he stops the car, looking at me with a concerned look on his face. it's hard to see, in the dark car, but it's easy to see his blue eyes, which almost sparkle.

"cara, did he do this to you?" he asks, gently touching my neck. the friendly touch makes me wince, squeezing my eyes shut, even though I know he wouldn't hurt me.

troye notices this fear, and he leans over so he can wrap his arms around me, kissing the top of my head. i begin to sob, end over end. he strokes my hair, going, "shhh," over and over, and i start to calm down, and slowly, my sobs become little sniffles.

"you're staying at my house tonight, and tomorrow night, and every night after that. you can't stay in that house anymore. i won't let you." troye says, beginning to drive again.

"b...but...my father will k-"

"your father will keep abusing you until one day, he'll hurt you so much that he'll kill you, if he doesn't kill himself first with his alcoholism."

"he doesn't drink. he's sober and never smelled like alcohol."

he suddenly slams the brakes, sending me forward in my seat belt.

"what?! you mean to tell me that he's completely aware of hitting you, and that he's under no influence?" he shouts, fuming.

i nod, tears starting to stream again. he drives the rest of the way in silence.

he pulls up to his house a few minutes later, and I slowly unbuckle my seatbelt, my hands shaking hard. he opens my door, and he picks me up in his arms, my face pressing slightly into his chest.

he's somehow able to unlock his front door and open it with one hand, while still holding me. he quietly walks up the stairs, into his room. i know this room all too well. he gently places me down on his bed, careful to place my head at a pillow.

"i'll give you some pyjamas to change into. hang on." he whispers. he disappears into his walk-in closet, and i glance around, my eyes settling into a photo of us. we're lying in his bed, early morning light pouring through a window out of frame. he has his arms around me, both of our faces calm, in slumber.

our moms had taken those photos of us last year, before she passed. i miss her.

"alright," he says, emerging from the closet, in his pyjama pants and no shirt, "i did find something for you, not sure how well they'll fit, but we'll make do." he hands me plaid flannel pants and a large black tee shirt.

i smile a little at him, and troye asks, "what?"

i wrap my arms around him, jumping from my spot. he follows after a moment, wrapping his arms tightly around me.