sincerely yours ⤇ john bender

bonus #3

[ trigger warning! brief description of abuse! if that makes you uncomfortable or anything, please don't read this. your wellbeing means more to me than this story. ]

JOHN WAS ALWAYS HEADSTRONG. Only a few other times in the three months of their relationship had Eisley seen anything other than his guarded facade, and it wasn't nearly as serious as she was seeing him now.

The only reason they were even in his house was because they weren't home and he needed to grab a jacket. John had said that they'd been gone all day and he wasn't expecting them to be back any time soon. Eisley was uneasy but trusted him nevertheless.

John's parents entered the house when the pair was distracted in his bedroom. Eisley spotted a baby picture of John and his mother on his dresser and pointed it out to him. As he explained, the front door slammed shut, startling both of the teenagers. She looked worriedly at her boyfriend, not knowing what to do, but John looked equally as worried. They could hear the footsteps down the hall that led to John's room, and before either of them could do anything, John's parents had opened the door and were looking at the pair of them.

"What's this?" his father asked. His question was expected, but his tone was nasty as he looked between the pair.

Not knowing what else to do, Eisley took a step towards him, held her hand out, and said in the politest way she could, "My name is Eisley Tusie, sir. It's nice to meet you."

John's father just looked her up and down, jaw clenched, taking in her tight jeans and tank top underneath what is clearly one of John's jackets. Finally, the old man knocked her hand away and marched up to his son, placing a hand on his throat and slamming him against the nearest wall. Both Eisley and John's mother jumped in alarm, and the older woman took hold of Eisley's sleeve to try and pull her to a safe distance.

"I've been nice enough to let you keep living here," his father said quietly, but just loud enough so that Eisley and his mother could hear, too, "eat the food that I paid for, and you repay me by bringing some whore over while your mother and I are out?"

What occurred next happened so fast. Before Eisley could comprehend what she was doing, she was suddenly standing face to face with the old man, having grabbed his arm and turned him herself with all the strength she could muster, and before she could blink, her fist had connected with his nose. Then she chased his father away from his room. Not even John's mother tried to interfere as the skinny seventeen year old girl threw a left hook to the old man's nose and chased after his retreating form, seething and promising threat after threat.

When she returned to John's room, he was sitting in the corner, not quite against the wall, knees to his chest and face concealed by his arms. Uncertainty clouded her mind, but she pushed it away and fell to her knees in front of him. She didn't know if he wanted to see her at that particular moment, especially after she had witnessed firsthand a small piece of the horrors in his home, or how he would react if she tried to reach out, but she had to try.

Eisley touched one of his arms gently with her fingertips. She ran her other hand carefully down his back; it was trembling. Then, she dared to seat herself at his side and wrap him in her arms until he slowly broke apart and unfolded in front of her.

He lifted his head. His eyes were red-rimmed and a dark, beautiful shade of brown, shining with years worth of carefully restrained emotions. Eisley could name them all. Pain, anger, humiliation, sadness. She almost couldn't breathe. A violent earthquake hit her heart then and cracked it right down the middle. The feeling was so intense that it actually hurt. And she thought, in him, there was more feeling than any one person should ever have to contain.

She tried to hold him closer, but was forced to let him go when he wrapped one arm around her hips and tipped himself over so that his head was in her lap, face pressed against her stomach. Instinctively, wrapped one arm around him as best she could, rubbing his back as she ran the fingers of her free hand through his hair; gently, as if he would break.

And he did, shaking violently, shattering into a million gasping, choking pieces in her arms that so desperately tried to hold him together. In that moment, she promised herself that she would hold him like that forever until the pain and suffering was gone. Until he was given a chance to live the kind of life where no one was able to hurt him so horribly ever again.