Color Me (under construction).

17. Is This Goodbye?

|| A/N Guess whose internet is back! It's mine. All of you are so amazing, and I'm so grateful. Hope you enjoy this chapter - the next one comes out on Saturday! Xx Etnom ||

Beau was not home, at least not the home she thought she'd wake up in. Instead, surrounded by the white bedsheets that she knew belonged to John, Beau found herself nearly unable to move. Every muscle ached and begged her to stop once she started moving, her shoulders and arms feeling it the worst. With the need to get up, she squeezed her eyes and pushed with all her might. A soft cry came from her parted lips as she finally got herself into a sitting position with her legs hanging over the edge of the bed. Gravity seemed to work against her, her body felt like it was sinking and if not for the lack of motion Beau could've sworn she was falling to the floor.

Beau began to shake, her every limb trembling as her lungs took in quick shots of oxygen. She was hyperventilating, her mind throwing her into a panic attack. Her glossy eyes darted around the room as her world began to spin, the quick breaths not helping. A gulp of sobs came from her throat, the sound similar to someone being strangled. She held her shaking hands out in front of her but they looked like a blur.

With her mind running circles, Beau hadn't noticed John come racing in. He was only in sweats, his hair a mess from sleeping, and a toilet brush in hand. As he collected the details from the scene before him, he threw the brush onto the bed and rounded to face Beau.

Her brown eyes pled with his as she looked at him, the shaking worsened and the hyperventilation quickened, "I...I can't...br-br-breathe," she stuttered in gulps.

"You're having a panic attack, Beau," John took hold of her extended hands, "You're breathing, I promise, baby girl, you are breathing."

Beau's eyes fluttered closed and she squeezed John's hands tightly. She let the sobs rip through her as they mixed with pain and panic. She still wore her tattered clothing and her skin was caked in dry blood, some cuts and bruises still yet to be discovered. John slipped his arm behind her back and the other beneath the bend of her knees. Carefully, he lifted her and carried her into the hall and around the corner into the bathroom, setting her onto the toilet seat. Her eyes were opened now and her breathing slowly normalized, as she watched John move about. He dug through the cabinets for towels and wash rags, he produced a new bar of soap and a lavender blended shampoo bottle and left for a moment. When he returned he held a folded royal blue t-shirt that looked rather large, setting the fabric on the counter. Looking at the shower, Beau realized he had filled the tub with water already.

"I'm gonna help you, okay?" John spoke softly, calmly approaching Beau. He took the bottom of her shirt and slowly lifted it, helping Beau slip her sore arms out of the holes and up and over her head. His hands held onto her elbows to help her to her feet, her hands grasping his shoulders to steady herself as he tugged down her bottoms. She stood before him in nothing but her underwear before he removed those too. The two of them shuffled over toward the tub, and John lifted her gently over the edge.

The warm bath water felt nice on her skin until she lowered completely. Every little cut and scrape burned at first and a little string of cries came from Beau's bared teeth. John was right there next to her, kneeling on the floor beside the tub with a wash cloth in hand. He dipped the fabric into the water and gently took one of Beau's arms. She watched him with clouded eyes as he cleaned the dried blood from her broken skin.

"I wish he killed me," she whispered. John's hands froze and his eyes stayed glued to her arm. "I'll never be able to face my mother after this, or go back to school. Not after everything I've seen, I can't - I...I don't know how."

John hadn't moved an inch, "I understand if you hate me, Beau-"

"Hate? I don't hate you, John. I think I'm falling in love with you, but that, what happened, was so real. I met a monster that will haunt my dreams, and lurk in the shadows." Beau took a breath and turned to him, her eyes finding his instantly, her voice breaking, "you weren't there. Why weren't you there?"

He had nothing to say, his deep eyes filling with tears. Sat before him, broken and afraid, was the love of his life. The young women he wanted to protect and spend the rest of his life with. Never before had he felt this way with anyone, and now he's gone and let her down. He asked himself the same question she was putting to him right now.

He wasn't there, why wasn't he there?

A single tear fell from his eye, "you haven't met the monster, Beau. Matthew was nothing compared to how bad it can get. You were just a pawn to him, a way for him to get to me - he didn't really care about you. He didn't want to hurt you, he wanted to hurt me. And he did. He hurt me bad because you're the only person on this god forsaken earth that can kill me. You, Beau Williams, are my lifeline. And being that puts you in danger, I wasn't kidding when I said that. I am a danger to you because you are a danger to me."

"I'm sorry," she whispered after a moment, "But I don't think I can do this anymore."

John zoned out at her words, his body and soul going numb. Beau gripped the edge of the tub and pushed herself out of the water. She wrapped her fragile body in the towel and reached for the t-shirt John fetched for her. He remained still, knelt by the tub with the tinted red washcloth in his hand as Beau pulled the shirt over her head. He let her go as she padded out the bathroom and out of his life taking his heart with her.