𝐃𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐤 𝐇𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐈𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬

Help me make it through the night

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Warning: mentions of abuse

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I place my hands on the window as I lean forward, peaking out to the parking lot and seeing it to be just as empty as it was when I checked ten minutes ago. I sigh, the air getting caught in my throat as I walk to the couch on the other side of the room, avoiding anything breakable in the dark.

"You're safe." I whisper to myself in an attempt to calm my very agitated nerves, swallowing down at the knot in my stomach. Eyes dry from minutes and minutes of crying. Head empty, but heart rattled with fear. "I just need to get through the night, tomorrow it'll be fine." Another lie, but anything to at least mimic a positive outcome. "Tomorrow it'll be fine." I say and I pull the blanket over my legs, clutching onto it as I stare into the empty loft, the silence making my skin crawl. I lean back against the back of the couch and give the loft another look over before shutting my eyes tightly and freeze when the door rattles.

It's locked. I locked it. I remind myself. But a simple chain and lock won't keep the bastard out if he wants in. I hold my breath as the rattling shifts to an annoyed motion, quick and strong. I jump up, grabbing anything that belongs to me before rushing to the staircase. It's dark, too dark to see me here. I remind myself, but if I could disconnect the main power switch, he could surely reconnect it. I sit down on the top stair, hidden from view but the door isn't hidden from mine. The rattling stops and then a sharp jerk shatters the chain in half, the door is pulled open. I stop breathing almost completely. A figure comes into sight, long and strong, not the figure I'd been expecting.

"I can see you." His voice tells me, and my lungs start working again, it's not him. He doesn't say more, turns the corner to the power box and then the lights shift on. My arms feel numb as I hold my blanket and phone against me. He steps into view again, arms folded over his chest as he looks my way. "Come down from there." He commands, voice filled with authority, but not anger. I take a second to prepare myself before standing and slowly moving from step to step, till my feet meet the cold concrete floor. His eyes rake over my body, stilling at my face for an agonizing minute before his stare noticeably softens.

"You said you wouldn't be back until next week." I tell him, voice raw from shouting. He looks past me, to the door my eyes keep shifting to without permission. He nods, more to himself than me before slowly walking to the door, using the remains of the chain to lock it again and then he looks to me.

"Are you hiding from someone?" He asks, down to the point like always. I consider his words before nodding. "Same person who did that to your face?" He asks, this time motioning to the bruise on my cheek. I nod again, looking at the ground, ashamed even though this isn't my shame to carry.

"I should've asked if this was okay." I say after a brief silence and force myself to meet his gaze, the pity in his features not a look I'm used to or fond of for that matter. I shake my head. "I couldn't stay in that house, Derek." I say and his brows raising when the puzzle pieces fall into place.

"Did your dad do that?" He asks, voice building in volume. I flinch away, almost dropping the stuff in my hands. He shakes his head. "Y/n..." He starts and I stop him by shaking my head.

"I just need a place to stay for tonight, in case he comes looking." I look him over and almost smile. "I don't think he'll come here." I add and he nods slowly, raking a hand through his hair with a slow sigh and then he steps towards me. I stop breathing again and he raises a hand out towards me, almost like he's approaching a deer. He smiles softly as he gently takes the blanket and phone from my arms, placing them on the table beside him.

"Does it still hurt?" He asks and I nod. He reaches his hand out again, waiting for me to take it and I hover before doing so, his hand warm as he gently pulls me with him to the kitchen, letting go when he moves to the freezer. He rummages around in there and I look down at my clothes, pulling at my shirt to cover my stomach. "Peas or Corn?" He asks with a boyish smile and I can't help but smile back, shrugging my shoulders as a reply. "Corn it is." He says and throws the other bag of frozen veggies into the freezer, motioning for me to sit as the table. He sits down in front of me and delicately lifts the bag to my face, the coldness burning against the bruised skin. I flinch, grabbing onto the table as he keeps the bag in place. "Here." He mumbles, and I open my eyes.

"Thank you." I mumble in return, placing my hand over his to take hold of the bag, the burning feeling dissolving into a comfortable numbness as the pain simmers. I lean back against the chair, bringing my feet onto the chair and knees against my chest. "You can ask, if you want." I tell him, noticing the way he looks at me as he too sits back in his chair. He raises a brow and then looks down at his hands, fiddling in his lap.

"Has he done this before?" He asks, the question empty yet filled with concern, concern from someone I know purely by acquaintance, how odd. I scoff.

"Hit me? No." I pull the bag away, little droplets of water sticking to my skin from melted ice. "Scream, curse, throw the occasional mug. Yes." I hold the bag in my hands, looking at the words as I speak.

"Did you tell anyone?" He asks and he watches my hands as I put the bag on the table in front of us. I shrug.

"What would it accomplish if I had?" I ask him in reply and I scoff again, fear from before simmering into anger and annoyance as the position I've been thrown into. "You had your own fights to fight, I was sure I could fight mine alone." I lift my fingers to my face, softly grazing the discolored skin, ignoring the urge to pull away. I close my eyes and drop my hand to fold over my knees. "I was wrong." I whisper and if I had the energy to do so I would probably cry.

"Well, you don't need to anymore." He leans forward and softly touches my knee. "You never had to, but now I know and whatever you need from me, you have it." He says, brows raised to tell me he's serious and I smile, folding my hands over his. "So, what do you need?" He asks and I smile again.

"A place to stay for a while." I say and he nods.

"You can take the bed." He says glancing back to other side of the loft and then back at me. "What else?" He asks, lips tilting into a smile as well. I look down at our hands and shrug. My heart beating faster at the warmth spreading through my body because of his kindness.

"That's all." I say softly, my voice suddenly shaking. I look up at him. "Thank you, Derek." I swallow, tightening my hands around his. "Really." I say and he uses his other hand to pull my chair against his, gently moving me into a side hug.

"You're not alone." Is all he says, and he frees his other hand to embrace me completely. He holds me close, the gesture so foreign and comforting that for a moment I can breathe again. No longer suffocating. No longer dying. Just for a moment, I'm free.

I just need to get through tonight, tomorrow it'll be fine. I remind myself.

I'm safe. I remind myself.

...

I wrote this for myself, to get me through some shit, so I'm sorry if it wasn't a good read or a good escape. That being said, I want to remind you guys that people don't always talk about what's suffocating them. Sometimes it feels like you have to fight alone, when you have people to fight with you. I've been fighting through some stuff alone and writing this, getting this out helped me breathe again for a second.

Check on your friends, guys. Even the strong ones. Especially the strong ones.

Lots of love. Mxx.

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