Pieces of Me

Chapter Eleven

Logan

Her long tan legs move so elegantly as she walks towards me. I take her in.  All of her. Her beauty both visible and hidden. And to know even the smallest amount of the hidden, it makes me feel like the luckiest man alive.

Her stride is purposeful, even though her pale-brown eyes give away the fact she's a complete wreck right now. Her pink mouth is set in a grim line which makes me breathe in a deeper, heftier breath. I really wish she would smile the way she had earlier in the night. So full of light and happiness. So natural.
Instead she sits down beside me. She sits so fast and slightly off-balance meaning her knee knocks against mine. Even after the shitty night we've had, my pulse quickens at the minor touch. 

What is this girl doing to me?

She tucks a strand of wayward hair behind her ear and looks up at me -  the whites of her eyes, they're peppered with red lines. Irritated.  A sure sign of alcohol. Or maybe crying. I can feel my heart flip in my chest. 

My own eyes look down as she delicately she takes my hand in hers. She touches me as if she's afraid she'll hurt me. That's a first. It's then she begins to wipe away the blood. The mess. 
I watch as she does, infatuated with her soft movements. It's then I absentmindedly lift my other hand up to push my messy hair out of my eyes..... and she jumps. Physically jumps.

Fuck.

Flashes of my father and invade my thoughts again. My mother flinching time and time again at his raised hand...me running to her.. between them....

"You're afraid of me."

The accusation is out before I can stop it.

She looks up at me and her eyes widen, but they give nothing away. She blinks, and I can almost see her mind working, considering her reply.

"No Logan, I...."

The words left unsaid hang in the air... stagnant. Those three words say more than she realises. 

"I wouldn't blame you," I say darkly, pulling my hand roughly from hers. I hold it in front of my eyes -  the purple is beginning to flourish, but it does look a bit better now it's cleaned up

It's still throbbing like a bitch.

I can only imagine how I looked to her - on top of the guy, punching him into oblivion. It might be sick, but I actually liked it. After what he'd done... tried to do... he deserves that and more.

 My fist. Hitting his skin....

I'd do it again. In a heartbeat.

As I re-live it, my stomach drops thinking about what happened before I got there. Suddenly I feel oddly sober.

 Ally, she just sits there. She's so silent I'm scared she might not forgive me at all. I didn't consider that.

I lift my hand, slowly this time, to her chin and gently pull her so she's facing me. This is the first real contact we've had, and I can't help but think that her skin is just as soft as I'd imagined. Her eyes look at me, full of concern.

"Are you okay Ally... did he... did he touch you?" I don't think I can handle the reply but I have to ask.

She closes her eyes and a tear slips down her cheek. My heart quickens and I feel the anger building up inside of me again. I wipe the tear away with my thumb before pulling back.

"You don't ... you don't have to tell me. I'm just, I'm here if you need."

"I'm sorry," she says so quietly that if I wasn't watching her lips I wouldn't have known she'd spoken at all.

What? Why is she sorry?

She's silent for a moment before she inhales shakily.

"I went to bed.. alone," she clarifies.

Her hands fiddle with the hem of her dress. I wish I had a jacket to give her, she must be freezing.

"A noise woke me, and I realised there were hands... um, on my hips.. my thighs, going closer..."

She takes in a ragged breath, her eyes still not meeting mine.

"I just.. I just couldn't move. It sounds so stupid, but it was like I was frozen. I di-didn't, I couldn't say no or tell him to stop. I don't know how to even explain it."

When she looks up, her eyes are heavy with emotion.

I can see pain and.... guilt?

My heart constricts in my chest. Fuck. I can't handle shit like this, I don't know what to even say. This is all too deep for me.

She sits there, her hands folded in her lap, looking up at me, expectantly, large beautiful eyes, waiting for me to say something. If I wasn't such a fucked up emotionless asshole I'd be able to comfort her.

Silence settles around us and I rack my brain for something to say.

"I'm going to head back to the house. I need to get my stuff and go home," she says quietly, looking towards the house.

Fucking hell.

She stands up, and I watch like a mute as she turns her back and walks away from me. Her feet are bare. It must be so cold.
About 10 metres away she suddenly stops, her hands go to her hips and pulls her dress down,  before running  her hands through her long brunette hair. Her back straightens and I can tell by the movement of her shoulders she's taken a deep breath in and out.
She's putting on a front, a mask – hell I know a bit about that. The thought she does too makes me jump off the bench and move towards her.

"Hey," I grab her arm to stop her.

She turns towards me and it's like I can see the thoughts tumbling around her head. Her face, it's sad and I want more than anything to fix it. 

"Ally, it's not your fault. He is a piece of shit human who had no right to do this to you," my voice comes out so low it's almost a growl. "Seriously Ally, please, please tell me you believe me."

She stays silent and I tug my hair in frustration. She needs to know this isn't her fault, none of it is.. I should have put that on disgusting specimen of a male in the ground. I want to walk back into that house and finish what I started. It's only the small, fake smile she gives me that stops me from doing just that.