short stories, sketches, and rants

Bruised And Beaten - A Kendyl One-Shot

Kennedy's POV:

   I wince as I pull on my shirt. I glance in the mirror and sigh as I notice a small cut near my eye. I don't have time for this. I spin and walk out of my bathroom, snatching my bag and jacket off my bed. I close the door to my room behind me and run down the stairs to the car, sliding inside after Adrien. He gives me a worried glance but I shake my head, telling him I'm fine.

   I absentmindedly touch the cut near my eye and sigh internally. I sit away from the back of the seat in order to avoid brushing the bruises on my back. I refused to have them checked out since I have no good explanation for them. What was I supposed to say, that Oh hey, I'm a superhero that got beaten up by an Akuma bad and that's why my back is bruised. And by the way, my father whipped me when I was younger so I have scars all across my back, some of which broke open during the whole getting slammed into a brick wall thing. 

   Yeah, no. We stop outside the school and I step out, walking over to our friends. "Morning everyone!" I say in fake cheeriness. Marinette gives me a worried look but I ignore it and continue to smile. We talk for a few minutes before the bell. The bell rings and we walk inside to class. I sit down in my seat and Dylan slides in next to me.

   "Good morning Kennedy." Dylan says as he pulls out his stuff. I fake a smile and say "Hi Dylan." He looks at me with concern and says "Are you okay, you seem a bit out of sorts this morning?" I tilt my head and say "What do you mean?" He shakes his head and says "You have the fakest smile ever. Trust me, you don't usually smile like that." 

   My smile drops with the first of my walls and I say "W-what, how...I don't understand." He turns to me more and says "Talk to me after class." I nod and turn forward, the only thing running through my head is I'm screwed. 

~After Class~

   I pack my bags as quickly as possible without being suspicious and slip from my seat as the bell rings. I move swiftly to the door but as soon as I take three steps outside, someone grabs my wrist. I turn back to see Dylan. Welp, plan A failed.

   "Talk to me please." He says pleadingly. I sigh and bite my lip before saying "Fine." He drops my wrist and I turn around fully to face him. "What is it?" I say casually, adjusting my bag strap to not dig into one of my bruises. "What's wrong, you never act this distant and hostile." He states simply. 

   I laugh and say "Hostile? I'm not being hostile. I'm fine. In fact, we should probably get to class." He shakes his head. "Nope, you are not fine. What is it Kennedy?" He says, placing his hands on my shoulders. I wince and clench my jaw before gritting out "Nothing, I'm fine." He removes his hands and pulls back the shoulder of my shirt some, revealing a purple bruise. 

   His eyes widen and he says "Kennedy, turn around." I look him in the eyes and see determination. I sigh and turn around, biting back tears. I feel him tug up the back hem of my shirt. "I know, it's ugly, isn't it. A mix of bruises and scars," I laugh airily. "You can leave me alone now Dylan. Now that you know I'm just some beaten up girl with scars. Someone who's ugly and worthless. I have known it for a lifetime, I guess you know it now too."

   I wait for him to laugh, to tell me what I already know, tell me how much I'm just trash. Silence. "Nothing huh? Well, I have to get to class. Bye Dylan." I say, starting to walk away. Suddenly, I'm turned around and something warm collides with my face. I blush as I realize he is kissing me. My eyes close and butterflies fill my stomach. 

   Strong arms softly wrap around my waist and I wrap my arms around his neck, sighing into the kiss. He breaks away and I open my eyes slowly to see him looking at me. I bush crimson and look away. "You are absolutely beautiful, inside and out. Don't listen to anyone who tells you otherwise." He says softly, turning me to look at him. 

   I smile before I realize I still have to explain how I got them. "It's my job." I say quietly. He gives me a confused look and I say "The bruises are from my job. I protect people and in return get cuts and bruises. And the scars, they are from my father." A look of sad understanding crosses his face and he softly hugs me. 

   Tears spring to my eyes and I lay my head on his chest. "I probably can't stop you but at least let me help you, please." He says quietly. I nod and close my eyes, letting the tears I have bottled for years pour down my cheeks.