Don't You Go

Part 15

Part 15

Lexa was dazed to say the very least. Her head ached, but she was more so pissed at the low blow Niylah had chosen to take. She hadn't been prepared, if Lexa had known she was going to get into a fight she would look like such an idiot right now.

She had learned a long time ago not to be blindsided. She had learned that it was a matter of life or death to be able to read when someone was going to get violent. Growing up with an abusive father who found anything she did a reason to hit her had been education enough.

Now she sat there, on Clarke's couch, her mind a muddled mess of past and present. Her face hurt and it reminded her of the instances her father went ballistic. Normally, he was able to maintain a semblance of control, where he would only leave marks on places she could cover up. But on occasion, he would give her a black eye or possibly a split lip, something Lexa could simply make an excuse for.

Her brain hurt, her face hurt and her heart was starting to beat harder in her chest at the memories. At the ghost of past injuries that ached deep within her bones. You escaped that, she closed her eyes and focused on her breathing, you're not there anymore. Calm down.

"Lexa, look at me, I can't see your face." Clarke instructed, hovering over her with a wet towel. The brunette flinched away, her entire body jumping back at Clarke's sudden movement. Her face was washed of all color and utterly emotionless. When she didn't respond, Clarke knelt in between her legs. Clarke grabbed at her chin gently to ensure she didn't hurt the older girl or alarm her. "What's wrong?"

It took another moment of searching Lexa's face for the brunette to open her eyes. Then Clarke realized what was going on, those green, expressive eyes were cloudy and glossy with unshed tears. Lexa's face was on the verge of crumbling for reasons Clarke really couldn't understand.

"Hey, you're okay." Clarke dropped the rag and pulled Lexa closer. She wrapped her arms around Lexa and pressed their foreheads together, "What's going on?"

She kept her eyes open, searching the face before her. Lexa's lips parted as she sucked in a raspy, thick breath. Her lip was swollen and still slightly seeping blood, but it was something they could take care of later. Her eyelashes were wet, but no tears streaked down her face. Lexa's fingers came up and tangled in Clarke's shirt, to ground herself and keep her memories from whisking her away.

Lexa focused on the fresh, sweet scent of Clarke's hair instead of the repulsive stench of her father's breath and cigarette smoke. She felt Clarke's hot breath on her skin and the blonde's fingers lightly playing through her hair. Her heart calmed and her mind cleared as she pushed all of those old memories back into the dusty corners of her mind she never visited. Shoved them back into the basement of her brain and locked the door.

"I'm sorry," she breathed, her fingers tightening in Clarke's shirt and pulling the blonde closer.

Clarke shook her head, "Don't be, there's no reason to be. What's going on in that head of yours?" She tried to pull away but Lexa sucked in a breath and squeezed her eyes shut, pulling Clarke back almost immediately.

Lexa licked her lips and shook her head, "I owe you an explanation, don't I?"

"Not if you don't want to give me one," Clarke replied. No matter how curious she was, Clarke wasn't going to force someone to explain or relive something that made them this emotionally distraught. She didn't know Lexa very well, she didn't know what made the brunette tick. Right now, she was purely basing her comfort on instinct.

"My dad," Lexa's voice broke, "you remember what I told you about him?"

Clarke remembered, it was something she probably wouldn't forget. Lexa had explained a little about her father's physical and emotional abuse when she was a kid. She hadn't explained everything, but had given Clarke the gist of it. Clarke could only nodded and brush Lexa's hair away from her face. Those eyes were still closed, making it difficult to read how she was feeling, but Clarke didn't worry about that as much.