A/N: So, I've written the final chapter to this fanfic but I'm kind of unsure about it. Comment and let me know if you'd rather me kind of leave this one open for a sequel or just close everything off and tie up all the loose ends. I'm willing to do either so whichever you guys prefer :) Thanks so much for reading and I hope you enjoy! BTW follow me on Twitter @dhightower96.
Scott POV
The next week was torture for me. Mitch was still upset with me and would only speak to me when absolutely necessary. He repeatedly insisted he wasn't mad, which honestly just made me feel even worse. If he wasn't mad then what was he? Done with me?
If I were in his shoes, I wouldn't want to be around me after what I'd said to him. I hadn't even meant to say any of it. It was the light-headedness and the stress speaking, but that's still no excuse for hurting him.
Today, Mitch was finally being released from the hospital. He still wasn't even close to being fully healed, but I could tell he weas ready to get out of here, and so was I.
I returned the brace I'd been wearing on my wrist now that it was mostly healed. Mitch's doctor sent us home with a ton of pain meds that I knew Mitch would refuse to take and a card with the date of our next appointment. He'd have to be back in a few weeks to have his stitches taken out.
We'd had the renovations to the apartment rushed so that we could go home instead of back to the motel. It would be much more comfortable for Mitch at the apartment. By the time we got home, the only evidence of the fire was the smell of fresh paint that lingered in the kitchen.
I helped him to the couch, my arms gently guiding him. He tried his best to avoid eye contact with me and it broke my heart. Once he was positioned on the couch, I walked to the kitchen and got him a glass of water. I set it on the table beside him.
"Thanks," he muttered blandly.
I sighed, "When are you going to stop being mad at me?"
"I'm not mad," he repeated for the thousandth time.
"Yes you are," I said, sitting on the arm of the couch by his feet. "I'm sorry about what I said. I promise I didn't mean any of it. How can I fix this?"
"You can't," he answered quickly, "because there's nothing to fix. I'm not mad."
I groaned.
"I'm not upset about what you said because in all honesty, this is my fault and you should be yelling at me for it," I started to interrupt him, but he stopped me. "You just...you reminded me of him when you acted like that and now I keep seeing these images of you standing over me with a knife..." he trailed off, shutting his eyes as a pained expression appeared on his face.
I was rendered speechless. His distance this past week suddenly made sense in my mind. He was scared of me.
"I-" I started, but I didn't know what to say. "I'm not like him and you know that."
His eyes flashed up to me for a second but then he focused on something else in the room, ignoring what I'd just said.
I wasn't sure what to say anymore. I'd lost my best friend.
Mitch POV
I laid on the couch, shivering slightly from the cold air conditioning that filled the living room. I wanted to get up and move to my bed, but it was so painful to walk and Scott was already passed out in the chair beside me. I couldn't see anything becasue the apartment was dark, but I could hear his soft snore.
After a few more minutes, I couldn't take any more of the cold so I decided to try and get up on my own. I sat up, not allowing any painful moans escape my lips as I did so. Scott deserved his sleep.
I walked blindly through the darkness as I searched for the hallway that would take me to my room. I heard Wyatt's squeaky meow come from somwhere near me. I'd almost forgotten that he was home.
He'd jumped out the window during the fire and a neighbor had been graciously watching him for us for the past week and a half. I stumbled on Wyatt's small body as I realized too late that he was standing right in front of me. I crashed into a nearby wall and let out a small cry of pain.
Scott jumped awake and flicked on a lamp as I leaned against the wall, gasping and clutching my throbbing wound. His eyes widened when he saw me and he ran over, catching me as the pain caused me to crumble into his strong arms.
He silently carried me to my bedroom and layed me down on the soft surface of my bed. I reached out for the blanket just as he spread it over me.
"What happened?" he asked.
"I was cold and you were sleeping so I was trying to walk to my bedroom. I was fine until I tripped on that stupid cat."
Scott smiled slightly at my comment about Wyatt, but the smile didn't reach his eyes. His smile was beautiful, but I couldn't stop seeing the expression he'd held when he yelled at me.
"Glad you're okay. Let me know if you need anything."
He started to leave, but I grabbed his hand and stopped him. He was almost as shocked by this action as I was.
"Wait," I said, unsure of why I wanted him to stay.
He looked at me, a spark of excitement in his eyes for the first time in days. "Yeah?" He asked.
"Do you mind staying?"
He hesitated, "Are you sure?"
I nodded. "I just don't want to be alone," I admitted.
He nodded and laid down beside me slowly, annoyingly careful not to touch me. I think he thought I was scared of him, which I wasn't. I was scared of the person that he was turning into. It was my fault, though. He'd never acted like this until I'd told him about Trevor. The stress of my complicated life was causing him to crack. Maybe it was just best if I wasn't here.
I think he said something to me, but I didn't hear him before I drifted to sleep.
***
I gasped as Trevor leaned over me, his hands reaching up and closing around my neck.
"Stop!" I tried to scream.
His face twisted into a sick sneer as his grip tightened. I reached my hands up in an attempt to knock him off me, but he was so much stronger than me.
Suddenly, a knife glinted in his and and he plunged it into my stomach. I screamed, feeling the pain slowly spread through my body.
I jumped up, my face plastered with tears. Scott had his hands placed gently on my shoulders and in my confusion, I violently struggled to knock them away. His eyes looked almost as terrified as I felt.
I stopped fighting him and soon found myself falling into his arms as I sobbed uncontrollably. My breaths were strained and ragged as I imagined Trevor's grip around my throat. Scott's arms were wrapped around me protectively and I could feel him slowly rubbing his hand up and down my back.
My dreams seemed to be getting more and more vivid with each new nightmare. I could hear Scott saying something softly, but the loudness of my thoughts made it difficult to hear him.
He held me for the next few minutes while I attempted to calm myself. Finally, I pulled myself away from him and used the back of my hand to wipe some of the tears off my face. I reached out and touched the huge wet spot on his shirt.
"Sorry," I whispered.
He caught my hand as it trailed down his shirt and and held it tightly in his.
"Are you okay?" he asked, his eyes full of concern.
I started to nod, but then I stopped myself. I shook my head slowly and more tears fell down my cheeks. Scott reached up and brushed the new tears off my cheek.
I wasn't okay. For the first time in weeks, I wanted to end my life.
