Eric Coulter ⋆ One Shots

⋆ the secret ⋆

⋆⋆⋆ WARNING: MENTION OF PAST PHYSICAL ABUSE BY A PARENT AND SCARS⋆⋆⋆

You trust him.

You trust him.

You trust him.

I watch my feet as I walk, not meeting the gaze of any of those who pass me, afraid that they'll know my plan if they see my eyes. Afraid that they'll know my secret. Sweat pools on my palms, forcing me to dry them off on my pants repeatedly.

You trust him.

My heart stops when my eyes meet his door, the solid grey sending shocks through my body. Before I can let myself retreat I rush to the door, pounding my fists against it.

What did i just sentence myself to?

Rustling comes from behind the metal, then the soft "click" of the lock being opened.

YoutrusthimYoutrusthimYoutrusthimYoutrusthim.

"Y/N?" His voice is rough, probably from the sleep I just pried him from. Slowly I drag my eyes to meet his, they seem soft - concerned and tired - but soft; trustworthy.

"Eric," I start, my mind and mouth failing me now that we are face to face. "Can I-?" I motion into his apartment with my hand, not confident in my voice. Nodding, he opens the door wider, letting me pass through.

"Y/N, if this is about earlier, listen I'm sorry. That was all my fault I know I shouldn't push these things, I was so stu-"

"No. No, it wasn't your fault." I stutter, remembering our earlier encounter, the feeling of his hands on my skin, his lips against mine, the fear of him seeing the real me. The me I've been attempting to hide for years. "I, uh, I have something to tell you. Or show you I guess." I mutter.

"Okay." he says, his leader face snapping into place, hiding his true feelings. It's better this way. I nod my head at him, turning slowly so my back faces him.

"You know I didn't come from the best family," I say, wringing my hands together, " Well I didn't tell you everything. I didn't tell anyone really. Only the person who did this to me knows I bear this scar." My voice cracking when the words exit me. 

Grabbing the soft fabric of my shirt I slowly pull it above my head, letting it fall to the floor when its free from my body. A soft inhale comes from behind me, my gut clenching.

"My father, he was," I shiver, the memories cooling me to the bone, "he was never loving. Coming from Candor he felt that kindness was deception, even in families. One day I tried running away from home, wanting to be free of his abuse, tired of the way he hit me." 

A sob breaks from me, my chest convulsing. 

"He found me in the factionless sector. He...he beat me, worse than he ever had before. I watched him as he pulled out the knife, and I thought he was going to kill me. Knew just I was going to die that day." Tears stain my cheeks, my arms covering my bare front, goosebumps pricking my skin even in the warmth of Eric's room. 

"He decided that I should learn from my mistake, he let me live, but he told me that I will always belong to him."

When I speak it's like he's saying the words to me all over again, and I feel the blade of the knife dragging against my skin. I hear my scream in my ears. 

I force myself to continue. 

"He said that I must carry the weight of my failure, as a daughter; as a run away; as a human." At this the floor rushes upward, my legs giving out, but before I can fall firm arms grasp me from behind. Taking a deep breath, I lean into his strength.

"I can still sometimes hear his voice. Or I'll catch a glimpse of grey hair and my heart just skips. It's like he's here, always. I can't get rid of him."

Eric's arms crush me against his body now, his head finding a place in the nook of my neck.

"He will never get to you again." He mutter to my skin, a promise I know he plans to keep based on the break his voice makes. The emotion I've never seen from him bleeding out. 

"You made it, you're free. He lost the best thing he's ever had, and now he'll never get it back. Never." The last few words are a growl, more animalistic protection than human.

"But I'm stuck with this reminder; This brand." I say, turning my body to face him, my bare chest rubbing against his. My hand traces he curves of his jaw as he kisses away the drying tears on my cheeks. With a shrug and a small smirk he replies with fake happiness.

"I think it's pretty badass. Be proud of it. Or better yet," he says running his finger gently down it, from shoulder to hip. "Get a tattoo over it, preferably my name."

A small laugh bubbles up in me despite my consent and I can't help but feel a weight lift from my shoulders. My secret now shared.