Depression.

t h r e e

                                                               t h r e e

        Violence's breathing had leveled nearly an hour ago, and even though it felt nice to be so close to him - I couldn't fall asleep. His mouth was pressed gently against my bare shoulder, one arm tucked under his head. The fingers of his right hand had been playing with the hem of my underwear and now grazed the bruises on my hip.

        Depression hadn't interrupted us, despite the insistent banging of the headboard against the wall and my barely audible moans.

        Violence had collapsed beside me, pulling me into his chest with a satisfied smile. "You're mine." He had repeated softly, brushing the hair from my cheeks before slowly falling into a comfortable sleep.

         I pulled away from him easily, reaching for his white t-shirt on the floor. As I pulled it over my head, he stirred ever so slightly, fingers searching the spot I'd previously been.

        "Lass." He murmured softly in his sleep. I ran my knuckles over the hollow of his cheekbone, my thumb thrumming gently over the small scar just under his eye.

        I turned towards the door, needing a shower, and stepped quietly into the hallway. 

        I could see Depression's arm, hanging lazily off the side of the couch as I traveled further up the hall and into the bathroom. I stripped slowly, easing my underwear over the sore bruises on my hips and the shirt off my shoulders before turning on the faucet.

        As the water heated up, I offered a dull stare at my naked reflection, examining the messy hair and the hickies on my neck. 

        I felt almost numb.

        I turned away from the girl staring back at me and stepped under the hot water. I stared at the tile as the scent of Violence slowly faded from my skin. I reached for Depression's soap bar this time, running it over my arms and shoulders just as the door opened.

        I paused, lips parting as one of the boys stripped outside the blurry shower curtain. I could tell it was Depression because Violence wouldn't have had to take off his pants.

        He pulled the curtain back and met my gaze with his narrowed blue eyes. I said nothing as he slid in beside me, his gaze moving over the bruises on my skin before he opened his arms.

        I didn't hesitate to fall into his embrace, my arms curling under his to rest on his naked shoulder blades. He held me silently for a few long moments before breathing a soft : "Violence can be pretty rough sometimes, but he needs you."

        "We both do." He murmured, one hand moving to stroke my wet hair tenderly. "You're ours and we're yours."