wrecked

» 08

Y/N's POV

The warmth of a hand touches my cheek. I don't move. I don't say anything. Silence. I can feel sheets around me. I must have passed out on the floor...

The hand on my cheek stays. I know whose it is. "Damn, Y/N...I-I'm so sorry you have to go through with this..."

Me too. "If there was a way I could change it...I would change it...but..."

If there was a way, it's too late. I had to go through with this since I was thirteen. I'm used to the pain. The torture, the abuse I get all the time. "...I'm scared..." His voice fades into nothing, but a sigh. Pain can be felt in his tone of voice, and I can feel it. Somehow, he knows. He knows what pain feels like. But how? Aren't all men the same? Emotionless monsters who take women in to be used?

I move my hand to put on top of his. I open my eyes to see him with a face full of regret. He sits on the edge of the bed, clothes the same as when I left him standing in the kitchen. I move so I'm sitting up. The sheets move as I do so. With my hand still holding his, I drop it. Not wanting to hold it longer than I have to.

"Shit, did you hear me?" Aito's face is filled with fear. But why? I nod. Saying something could lead to two things. Me being beaten, or either left alone. Even so, this is different. The way he's been lately, I don't think he's going to do anything. But my fear of him doing something still lingers.

Aito runs a hand through his hair. The lights of the city reflect on his almost white hair. The sunset from before, gone. "Tomorrow is Saturday..."

"Yeah, it is" I say for the first time.

"Look," Aito looks at me, golden eyes strong with emotions, "you're most likely confused. With a lot of things. My phone, you read the texts."

I widen my eyes. He remembers?

"You're father...jesus, I'm meeting him tomorrow. You're going to come along. That sick bastard has explaining to do."

"Aito...why?"

His eyes widened. "What?"

Anger. I feel anger. Anger is all I feel. I want answers, and I don't think talking to my father is going to get me anywhere. My father...fuck. I stand up, not caring what happens later.

"Shit, Aito!! What is going on?! Why, why is all this shit happening?! Why are you being nice? Why are you seeing my father? Why, just fucking why?!" My anger spills out of me like it's nothing. I feel dumb for doing so, knowing very well what he can do.

Aito puts his face in his hands, sighing. "I-I...let's get some rest. I cleaned up everything."

I walk over to him, anger filling me to the top, and slap him. My palm of my hand stings, and a red mark forms on Aito's cheek. He doesn't say anything, his face, emotionless.

"Ha, I deserve that..." he says under his breath. He gets up from the bed, and walks over to the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. The water coming from the shower starts up. I slam my fist on the bed, messing up the sheets. Aito, you fucker. I just want answers.

❆

That night, both of us didn't sleep. Both not knowing what to do with the current situation. Confusion is all that I can seem to feel. Ever since that I was introduced to Aito, and being told I was going to marry him, my father made it seem it was to connect companies. But when I was little, life was great. My parents were happy, loving, until I turned thirteen. That's when things went downhill. My parents would always look surprised at random times, but not tell me anything. Eventually, my father started beating me, and the surprised faces went away. My mother tried to protest, but my father pushed her away. The family fell apart. The only person I could count on was him. His pure white hair and dark purple eyes. The only friend I had. The only family that didn't see me as a fuck up. My father stopped him from coming. Communication lost, heart broken. He always was a writer, I wonder if he got into a good school...

The walk to the place we were meeting my father seemed to take longer than it was. Thinking how my life turned to shit was something that never disappeared. Aito is in front of me, long black coat, black sweater, and jeans. Shoes, always being boots. I, however, dress in only a sweater, jeans, and a coat. Nothing as fancy as Aito's.

"Hurry up, we should have been there by now" Aito says without turning his head to me.

"Sorry..."

We turn the corner, and Aito stops. "We're here."

I look in the window, and in the corner of the bar, my father sits. Aito leans down, close to my ear. His warm breath hitting my ear sent a chill down my spine. "Stay behind me."

I don't say anything, nor do I nod. Aito opens the door, and a bell rings, indicating we have entered. For being a small place, it's busy, but not really busy. I walk in behind Aito, shutting the door behind me. He walks to the back of the bar where my father sits, waiting.

"Ah, Aito. Good for you to come, now- hey, who's behind you?"

Aito clenches his jaw. "Y/N."
I walk out from behind Aito. My father stands up, making his way over to Aito. He grabs on to his shirt. "What the hell?! Why is she here?!" my father whispers in gritted teeth. Aito grabs my father's wrist and pulls him away. "She's here for some answers. She's your damn daughter, talk to her."

I stay silent. I don't want to be here, but if it gets me what I want, then I will stay.

"Jesus, sit down."

Aito takes a seat across from my father, and I take the chair next to him. The farther away from my father, the better.

"You didn't do your job. You piece of shit, you were supposed to make sure this-"

I slam my hand on the table. My father stops talking, the rest of the bar goes quiet. Eyes go to me, but eventually stop and chatter starts again. "I'm tired of this!" Tears start forming in my eyes. "Why, why are you like this? Why are you doing this?! Why-w-why did things change..."

A sigh can be heard from across the table. "Because," my father starts, his tone sharp, "you are not normal. Never where. Since you were thirteen, odd things started happening. Things started floating. Floating around YOU. You are the reason why-"

"Hey! You think you can stop being an ass for second?!" Aito pipes in.

My father gives a dirty look. "Beating you was the only way to stop it. We wanted you to be normal, your mother and I hated you. Well, more me."

"You know, just stop talking." I say. My father's eyes widened at my statement. "So, you're telling me that all this time, you beat me because somehow I'm able to make things float?" Sarcasm fills my tone.

Aito looks over at me, putting a hand on my shoulder. "This asshole," he looks over to my father, then back at me, "made me be with you to do the same...because he claims he won't be here forever..." he says in a low voice. "I'm no one to you. Not a husband, nor a friend. Someone who was forced to do this."

I look at him, face full of tears. I stand up, not wanting to hear any more. "B-bathroom..." I walk to the back of the bar. "Ha, that little shit, still weak even when she acts tough. Wonder how she will take the news of her mother's death..." my father's voice can still be heard when I walk away. Aito is fighting with him, defending me. All this time, I was beaten because of what I am able to do. Connecting the dots, being weak equals no floating objects. But Mom...she's...gone.