Who She Is

~24~

^The outfit Amaya puts on.

*Mentions of violence/abuse warning

Alyx's POV

We sit there for a little while, watching the stream. It doesn't look too deep. Does she ever swim in it? I look over to her, and she's got a cute little smile on her face. I want to talk to her some more.

"Do you want to continue asking questions?" I ask. "I'm not sure how many we each have left."

"Sure." She props her elbows on her knees. "You can go."

"Uh," I stop to think of something. I remember Jason saying she got in a fight last week with some girl. "Who did you get in a fight with last week?"

She sighs. "Is this because of what Jason said?"

"I also remember you not showing up the day after we hung out, and you had more makeup on than usual the day you told me to leave you alone. Were you trying to cover up evidence from a fight? Did you get hurt?"

She stops and stares at me for a second. "You really noticed that?"

"Yeah." She usually wears makeup, but I could see the thick layer of foundation she caked on.

She sighs and now rests her chin on her knees. "It wasn't a fight. My uncle slapped me."

"What?!" I yell, my eyes growing wide.

She looks taken aback. "What? It was just a slap. It's not that big of a deal."

"Yes, it is!" I raise my voice. Why would anyone hit her? I can't believe that. Her own family? I know she couldn't have done anything to deserve physical violence.

"He barely hit me," she mumbles. "It didn't even hurt."

"That doesn't matter. And it was hard enough to have to cover it," I argue. She slightly glares then looks away. She doesn't say anything, so I ask, "Why did he do it?"

"Look, I was being a bitch. I had it coming." She crosses her arms, still not looking at me.

"Don't defend that!" I grab her shoulder, turning her to face me. She gasps and stares at me with wide eyes. I lean closer to her and lower my voice to say, "That is not a reason to hit you. You should never be hit. Ever. I... never want you to be hit. It makes me so angry someone did that to you." I let go of her shoulder and examine her face. She stays quiet, keeping her eyes on me. "Which side was it?"

She turns her face, exposing her left cheek. I look at it and lift my hand. Her eyes shift to it, and I hesitate for a second before lifting it to her cheek. I softly place my palm against it and rub it with my thumb. I don't see anything. It has been about a week. I look back in her eyes. They're wide with shock, and her lips are slightly parted.

I widen mine, too. What have I done? I didn't think of the position this would put us in. I just wanted to inspect her cheek. I drop my hand, clear my throat, and face forward again. "I'm sorry," I apologize.

"It's okay. Could you please... not tell anyone? I don't want anyone to know." She looks ashamed. She shouldn't be. Her uncle should.

"I won't, but shouldn't you report it?"

"No. Please just leave it alone right now. I don't really want to talk about it anymore."

"Okay." I guess I can for now, but I'm definitely not letting it go.

She grabs my hand off my lap. "Thank you. It means a lot to me that you care."

"You're welcome." She squeezes my hand, smiling.