Goodbye Ain't Ever Meant A Thing

Chapter 15

Authors Note: If this chapter is too much feel free to skip it and message me instead if you want the basics and for those who read it...Don't kill me! I swear it'll get better!

They walked through the doors of his more than modest home, a sense of both relief and terror filling her with every step. She couldn't help but want to chuckle at the thought. Fear was living with Derrick. Fear was never knowing what was going to set him off. Fear was knowing she would be punished for anything that upset him. Being with Brantley was anything but fear, but now, as she stood in the doorway of his home, she was afraid. Afraid of the bruises and marks he would find. Afraid of the disappointment that she would see on his face. She pushed her red hair from her eyes and rubbed her finger against her nose, a tale-tail sign of being uncomfortable. Closing her eyes and she faced the ground, shielding herself the task at hand. The familiar feeling of guitar worn fingers settled in the smooth palm of her hand as he gently tugged. Her eyes popped open, staring at the man before her as he stared at her. His hands carefully came to rest upon her face, resting for just a moment before removing the dark band glasses. Instantly, as if a weight was set on them, her eyes closed. He inhaled sharply at the sight beneath them. Her once pale skin was now dark with purple and blue, and the faint trail of yellow revealing the healing that had taken place.

"Rosey..." His voice was meek, trailing off to nothing. A sense of pressure placed upon her chest as she realized what this meant. He knew. He knew her terrible secret and there was no way she would be going back to the life she lived. She would never have to endure that pain again. A single tear escaped her sage eyes, but she didn't open them. His hands trailed down, reaching for her grey and black scarf. He untied the fabric from behind her neck and allowed it to drop to the floor. His fingers felt cool as they trailed along the bruise and broken skin around her neck. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she opened her eyes. His blue-green eyes met her's, a look of concern and sorrow matching her own. She nearly broke when she saw the tears in his eyes.

"What the fuck did he do to you Sienna?" He exclaimed as he dropped his hands into his lap as he averted his eyes from her. His hands began to twist against one another and twisting his rings before finally resting on his legs. She knew what he was doing. He was fighting his anger. He sighed before standing and walking away. She followed his retreating figure with her eyes before resting her head on her hands. The overwhelming feeling of panic struck her to the core. What would he do to Brant now that he knew? What would he do to her? Her chest heaved with every breath, a sob breaking through the locked gates of her lips.

"Rosey, come here," She heard his rough voice as he kneeled in front of her chair. He grabbed her hands and pulled her onto the floor with him, her body fit perfectly in his lap. He gently wrapped his large arms around her, rocking her slightly back and forth, just as he had done when they were children. He tangled his hand in her hair, the copper color coating the tanned skin of his hand as he held her to him. He held her as she cried, allowing her to unleash the emotions she had trapped for so long. Without a word he stood with her in his arms and walked down the darkened hallway. He passed through the doors of his bedroom, before retreating to his master bathroom. He gently set her down, making sure her feet were firmly planted before releasing the grip he had around her waist. He didn't hesitate as he tugged the bottom of her green sweater over her head, revealing the large bruise across her stomach along with two smaller ones on her back. His fingers traced over the fingerprint-shaped bruises on her upper arm. Her pale skin had always bruises easily but he knew this was a recent beating. His eyes landed on a scar on her lower stomach.

"What's this from baby?" He asked as he traced it, his finger resting on the top of her jeans. Her breath paused in her chest as she shook her head. That scar was far too painful to relive. The raised skin, though barely four inches long, was by far the worst injury she had ever faced. He nodded, understanding as he took a deep breath, shakily letting it out. His tongue traced the outline of his lower lip before placing his hands on her protruding hips. He had noticed she lost weight. She had gone from curvy to sickly thin, but he had chalked it up to her being sick. She watched carefully for his reaction. The anger in his eyes was evident, along with concern and what seemed to be a sense of sadness.