Blue // Daniel Seavey

Chapter 13

A/N: (The beginning of this chapter includes a small part with serious law stuff that I am seriously no expert on; I have no idea, to be honest. I'm aware that in reality, things would probably be taken more seriously, to a further extent, but as for the story, I've decided to keep things slightly more light-hearted. That's because firstly, I need to be able to write my story without the realistic stuff getting in the way and secondly, I have no clue what the reality actually is.)

Corbyn

Running my hands over the swelling of bruises that lay across my face, I wince in agonizing pain. My eyes, also surrounded by dark bruises, scan every inch of my injured face, carefully studying each and every wound that he has given me. Simply standing here in front of my bedroom mirror, just glancing at my reflection, I feel broken. Like I've lost.

All I was trying to do was protect her, my best friend. And I failed. I told myself that I wouldn't let anyone hurt her in any shape or form, and when I heard the way he was speaking to her, plus my bad impression that I already have of him, god, it completely angered me. He angered me. So that's why I felt I had to do something. If he thinks he can get away with continuing to act how he has been doing his whole life, especially if it's going to involve Tori, he's wrong.

I know that I come across as some goofy idiot, but when it comes to protecting my loved ones, I'm going to protect them. Or at least try. I can't be easily intimidated so that's why I had the confidence to walk up to him and tell him what I really think of him. I knew even before I approached him that I would end up saying something that would infuriate him, I think I already knew that I'd end up getting hurt, but I didn't care. Yes, he gave me a bloody nose, a bruised face and a swollen eye, however, he still won't be feared by me.

'I hate you', I heard Tori say to him, although I was only half-conscious. She sounded horrified. I was the one in physical pain, but the emotional pain in her voice seemed much worse. So much worse. I remember the sounds of her begging him to stop, she was screaming, crying, wailing, but he didn't listen, just threw his fist so harshly into my face. It's so vivid.

But as much as he hurt me - as much as he beat me so badly - I don't hate him. I didn't hate him before, yes, I disliked him, but didn't hate. I'm not going to be sour and hate him now just because I lost a fight and he unfortunately gave me a few bruises; I'm not that type of person.

Taking one last look in the mirror, I catch my mother standing by my bedroom door. As I make eye contact with her, she smiles a small smile, but I know it's false - I couldn't bear the sight of my own child in this much pain. Sympathy is in her eyes.

"Are you sure you want to go to school tomorrow?" she asks softly, her voice small as she makes her way over to me.

I nod my head, looking down at the floor.

"Really?" She sighs. "You're going to get a lot of attention. I don't want you going through that."

I shrug my shoulders, still looking down at the floor.

She stays silent for a long moment and I can feel her eyes watching me. "It looks like they're getting better." she says, moving the blonde hairs that scatter across my forehead so that she can study my wounds properly. "They're not as raw as they were yesterday."

My eyes still remain on the floor. All I can feel is defeat.

"Corbyn, please look at me."

Slowly, I lift my head, my eyes meeting her sympathetic ones. As I look at her, I catch my reflection of my beaten face staring at me, like it's trying to get me to look at it. To remind me that I lost.