Safe And Sound

You're The One

"We 2hould probably head home then." he offers. You nod and turn around,  walking down the street. He accompanies you the entire way to your apartment.

"IIt'2 niice."

"NOT REALLY" You mumble as you pad up the steps, grabbing a key from in your pocket, and unlock the door.

"Who do you liive with?" He asks curiously.

"MY DAD..."

"Oh. Alriight. 2ee ya tomorrow Karkle2."

"THE FUCK DID YOU JUST CALL ME?"

"Karkle2. II2 that bad?"

"YES. GOODBYE." You shout and slam the door shut behind you. You leave him in a short state of shock and silence. Then there's yelling. Crabdad shoves you against the door hard, your shirt lifted halfway, the door jingling from the harsh force. Sollux is unmoved and you're on the other side, fighting to breathe.

"I THOUGHT I TOLD YOU THAT IF YOU CAME HOME WITH ONE MORE MARK, YOU'D BE IN DEEP SHIT. " He points to your garden of fresh bruises you had accumulated from earlier that day. "AND WHAT DO YOU GO AND MOTHERFUCKING DO??? YOU COME HOME WITH NOT ONE, BUT MULTIPLE MARKS." His voice is booming through your thinkpan as red tears race down your face. You are pinned to the door with Crabdad's hand on your throat. You're oxygen is running thin but the adrenaline from the fear has you fighting for your life.

"THIS, IS UNACCEPTABLE. I WILL NOT TOLERATE WEAKNESS." He throws a punch at the side of your cheek and then, just as he drops you, he kicks you in the side, sliding you into the stairwell, just like the gang did today but with lockers. Sollux stands outside, flabbergasted and stone cold and you reside on the inside, coughing up even more blood.

SOLLUX'S P.O.V.

You cannot believe what you just heard. Is Karkat alright? You hope so and you have no idea what to do. Call the police? No no, maybe he was just mad at punched the wall instead of what you thought may have been Karkat. You pray it wasn't the latter, so hard you pray but it's already far too late. You're scared now and you promptly sprint in the other direction towards your own apartment, hoping he is alright.

KARKAT'S P.O.V

 You cough up large amounts of blood as you are continuously being kicked and punched. You curl up into the tightest ball you can and cry out in pain. He yells and curse  furiously at you and then finally, after 5 minutes, lets you go, blood coating his knuckles. He turns around and heads to the kitchen. 

After seeing you haven't moved he shouts ironically, "GO TO YOUR FUCKING ROOM AND GET YOURSELF CLEANED THE FUCK UP. I DOT NEED YOUR BLOOD ON MY FLOOR."

You hold your sides and barely have enough energy in your arms to carry your backpack up the stairs. You whimper like the kicked puppy that you are with each step you make, your entire body shaking violently. You wish so much that you were dead. Nobody needed you. Not Sollux, definitely not your own dad, and certainly not anyone else. You set your bag on the floor and then head into the bathroom that has a small sink, a toilet, and a shower in it. You turn the shower on, setting it on its hottest setting. You can't stop crying and slip out of your bloodied clothes, stepping into the cubicle which spits its liquid fire at you. It's soothing against your back and warms your insides, but still you cry. What did you do wrong? Why did the world hate you? Why can't you have just one friend without being a complete and utter asshole? You don't know and just sob endlessly, wishing you could be with him. Wishing you could be in his warm and gentle arms again. You just met him but his touch was nice and wished so badly that you could feel it again. The hot water would have to suffice for now.

You've been in there for gog knows how long, but at least not you've somewhat calmed down. You sluggishly turn it off and gently dry yourself off, walking to your dresser to put on something a little more comfortable. But first you should wrap your fresh wounds. You wince as you wrap the soft and grainy feeling bandages around your waist and up around your shoulder, hitting large bruises. You take other separate strips and wrap those around your legs and arms. You clench your jaw at the pain enveloping you, and wriggle into a clean baggy black sweater with your Cancer symbol on it and a black pair of baggy "Pj Pants", Err that's what Humans call them anyways, and they have little red crabs on them which makes them your favorite pair ever. You limp to your small desk and take out the mounds upon mounds of homework you have. Better get started, you're going to be up all night doing this bullshit.