Bullet // Choni One-Shots

I Sink Farther

A gentle tap resonates from your window and your entire body goes rigid.

The revolving door of images begins--Sister Woodhouse with a needle, Nana Rose in a heap at the bottom of the stairs, your mother's claws on a black steering wheel, Nick St. Clair's hand on your thigh, your father's forefinger on a trigger, your brother reaching out to you from beneath ice cold water.

And then there's another tap, one that rips you completely out of your trance.

Slowly, hesitantly, you get out of bed to pull back the curtain.

"Toni?" Your voice comes out a hoarse croak, but the panic in your chest settles as soon as you see pink hair illuminated by the full moon. You open the window and guide her in by her forearms.

She turns to you, "I'm sorry, I didn't know where else to go."

It is only then that the light streaming in through your open window allows you to see the bruises that adorn her brown skin. A black eye. A split lip. A cut above her right eyebrow. This alone concerns you, but it is the way her eyes are downcast that really forces your chest to tighten.

Because you've seen your girlfriend with bruises before. It kind of comes with the territory of dating a Serpent. She has stormed into school numerous times with her head held high, skin various shades of purple after a fight with some Ghoulie.

But this is different.

You reach out to stroke her face with your fingertips, careful to avoid all the painful looking marks. She closes her eyes, sighs, and leans into the palm of your hand. It's only then that you realize that Toni is trembling.

"Baby... What happened?" You ask, but Toni only shakes her head, a single tear falling out of the corner of her eye. You wipe it away with a shaking hand and pull her into you. You rack your brain for what could possibly be happening, what could bring your girlfriend to her knees in this way, and a tight knot of anxiety grows in the bottom of your stomach.

After what feels like hours but was realistically only a few minutes, Toni pulls away.

"God, I'm sorry I'm such a mess." She wipes her tears with shaking hands.

"Don't be." You entwine your fingers with hers and squeeze her hand twice. "C'mon, let's get you cleaned up."

She lets herself be led to the restroom that is joined with your giant bedroom, where you sit her down on the toilet as if she were a doll. Your hands are shaking when you lean down to find the first aid kit you keep stashed at the back of your medicine cabinet. Tears are prickling at your eyes, but you take a deep breath and force yourself to get it together. How many times has she kept it together for you? It's your turn, Cheryl.

You get on your knees and cradle her head in the palm of your hand as you wipe away the dried blood on her face. An instant ice pack is pressed along the myriad of purples on her face. You spread ointment on the cut above her eyebrow and try not to cry when you see her flinch.

"I'm sorry." You say, and lean over to press a gentle kiss against the top of her forehead. "What do you want to do?"

"Can... can we go to bed?" She says in a voice smaller than you've ever heard it.

"Of course."

You let her borrow your warmest pajamas: an old pair of cotton sweats and a worn Riverdale High sweatshirt. You both climb into bed, an echo of that ill-fated sleepover from so many months ago.

The silence is suffocating. There are so many questions forming a vortex in your head but you can't voice any of them for fear of prodding. So you lie there, two inches away from the girl that you love, helpless.