𝟓𝐀𝐌 𝐈𝐍 𝐍𝐄𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐊 | discontinued

5; Riot

Robyn cursed under her breath as she carried her bruised and bloodied body up to her third floor apartment. Her body was in tremendous pain, but the pain in her entire lower region was excruciating.

Once she made it to the door, breath shallow and harbored, she put the key in and turned it. Her mind immediately switched from the pain to getting as cleaned up as possible before Whitney saw her.

It was a 50/50 chance that the younger woman was home. If she was home, Robyn hoped to get to the bathroom before she greeted her as usual. If she wasn't home, she'd have a couple of minutes to spare to catch her breath and cry.

Today happened to be one of the worst days in Robyn's entire life. It was a sad case of being at the wrong place, at the wrong time. She never expected the place she once called home to become a place she'd fear for, probably, the rest of her life.

Robyn took a deep breath before opening the door. She slowly walked in and closed the door behind her. Once she locked the door, she leaned her head against the door, taking a deep breath, trying to level her breathing.

As if on cue, her tears began to fall.

To be a black, gay woman in America.

Robyn felt like the world had turned its back against her. You could find solace in a country filled with racism. You could find solace in a country full of sexism. But shit, you'd be crazy to think you'd find solace– no, safety– in a country full of homophobia.

Whitney heard the broken cries of the older woman and quickly came out of the bedroom to see her best friend, bloodied, crying against the front door.

"Robyn?" Whitney softly called, walking to her right side. The older woman's face– drenched by her own tears– turned slightly to the side, looking at Whitney. All Robyn could do was cry harder. She prayed that Whitney would never know the extent of how cruel this world could be.

"What's up, Whit," she pathetically said in an attempt to act as if everything was okay. Whitney only shook her head, saddened to see her best friend in this state. She attempted to touch her but Robyn flinched.

That's when the multitude of her bruises became evident. Robyn wore a regular white tee– stained red by a mixture of her blood and others– along with basketball shorts that were torn up. It was clear that Robyn was assaulted but the extent hadn't yet been revealed to Whitney.

She knew that Robyn would refuse to go to the hospital so she quickly went into care mode. "Can you walk?" She asked, barely above a whisper as if the world was silent and talking in any octave above a whisper would shatter her friend like glass.

Robyn nodded, slowly turning around to get a clear look at the path to the bathroom. It was no more than a couple of steps, but she knew it would take three times that amount.

Whitney held her hand out and helped guide Robyn to the guest bathroom. She ran a warm bath with epson salt and lavender oils to ease her muscles. "Do you want me to stay in here with you or do you want some privacy?" Whitney was on the verge of tears seeing her best friend so hurt and so broken. Her eyes were dark– in contrast to her usually bright and lively eyes.

"I'm a thug, mama. Ain't no need to feel bad for me. People like me get beat and raped by our uncles and cousins all the time." That revelation broke Whitney's heart. The tears didn't stop. "Stop crying, Whit," Robyn whispered, wiping the tears that fell from the younger woman's face.