Baby Mendes//S.M.

Chapter 19 - Just like a map.

Melony's POV
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I felt myself shaking uncontrollably, when I heard my name more than 2 times. It's was screamed at the top of someone's lungs, and I heard it all. And the voice ... I knew that voice all to well. It was Zayn's voice. It was gruff, and very angry. Last time I saw him, it was four years ago, when he kidnapped me for a week. It's something I still have flashbacks from. Not nearly as much as I did back then, since it's been a while. It's better now, but I still get extremely scared.

I heard thumping. Loud thumping. As if a body were being picked up and thrown onto the floor with full force. Everyone hid in our basement. Most of us were crouched, but not me. The girls were with Shawn's mom and my mom, trying to keep them somewhat quiet and busy.

"You can't come in here and demand your way. Melony is my WIFE and we have KIDS. Get OUT of here, and go BACK to the filthy place YOU belong!" I hear Shawn scream at the top of his lungs.

I had never heard him that angry. Sure he got frustrated sometimes and his voice became gruff, but I had NEVER in all my years of living with him and knowing him, have I heard him that angry, and upset, and protective. It honestly scared me, the way he was reacting, but part of me also knew he was doing it out of love.

When I hear a car drive off after a few more long minutes, I begin walking back upstairs, instructing everyone to stay downstairs. I open the door and step into the living room, where I see small splotches of blood on the wood here and there. I see Shawn. Bruises and all. He stumbles into the house, closing the door behind him, and he makes it to about the couch, before I see him collapse.

"Shawn!" I shout, running to him, seeing he's passed out.

I need to get him upstairs. I may not have the strongest upper body — who am I kidding. I have NO upper body strength. But I need to do this. I pick his hands up, and bend down. I hook his forearms over my shoulders, and I begin dragging him, as best as I can without hurting him more. I get up the stairs successfully, but extremely out of breath, and I pull him into our room. I pick him up enough to get him on our bed and I let him lay there.

I need to somewhat carry on with the party. I should just send everyone home with a slice of cake and wish them a happy life, and hope they don't get PTSD from such a traumatic event that totally didn't happen, right? No, I need to address this.

I walk back downstairs and I ensure everyone is safe and that they can come up. Once all gathered around, I tell them what happened, all their faces dropping and then smiling, at the mixed up bad and good news. Everyone comes by me and pats me on the back and apologizes to me, but I of sort of begin to ignore them after about the third one.

I begin cutting the cake, putting them on miniature paper plates, and saran wrapping the tops, placing a plastic fork in each set. Everyone takes a plate and begins heading out after about another hour of mingling. After everyone leaves, I pick up the sleeping girls from the couch and I take them upstairs. I lay them in their bunk bed and tuck them in. I kiss their foreheads and watch them cuddle their stuffed animals.

I let out a heavy sigh, and rub my tired eyes. I close their door softly, and I walk into my room, seeing Shawn still passed out on the bed. I change my clothes, and slip on a pair of shorts and a tank-top. I grab a rag from our bathroom, and wet it. I ring it out, leaving it damp, and I put some antibiotics on it, to help heal the cuts.

I walk to Shawn and climb onto the bed, and sit on his waist, my legs bent on either side of me. I lean down and kiss his forehead softly. I take the damp rag and dab his cuts, and I dab his face, watching his chest rise and fall slowly, as his eyes cease to flicker. Just below his eye is bruised, and I shed a single tear, watching it fall on his shirt.

After I've cleaned up his face, I slowly peel his shirt off of him, and I trace my fingers over his abs. Just like a map. I see all the bruises, and I kiss each one of them. When I'm done, I set the, now dry, rag down on the bedside table and begin to climb off him, when I feel Shawn move his arm and softly grip my waist.

"Shawn?" I ask, and he mumbles. He flickers his eyes open, and takes a good look at me.

"I'm tired," he manages to say, and I smile weakly.

"I know baby," I assure him "go to sleep, love." I tell him, and he softly tugs me closer to him.

I smile softly, and I lay down. My body on top of his. I lay my head in his chest, intertwining our legs, and covering us with a blanket. I watch him fall asleep again, and I play with his hair. After about 30 minutes, I find myself crying softly. I cry for about 3 minutes, before Shawn shifts, and wakes up.

"Hey, hey, hey, baby," he whispers. I cry more, trying to keep quiet.

"I'm sorry," I say, and I wipe my tears.

"Don't be sorry, baby. It's okay." He tells me and uses all the strength he has, and wraps his arms around me.

I fall to his side, and he pulls me even closer to him. He is extremely warm, but it doesn't stop me from crying. He holds me tight, close to his chest, as if we couldn't get closer. He rubs my back, and shushes me. I cry softly into his chest. He tells me periodically that I'm okay, and I find myself getting weary.

He kisses my head, and groggily whispers, "Goodnight, baby." And I sigh, sniffling a few times, before I fall into a deep sleep.
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See you in the next chapter my little dandelions XOXO
~Em