#the day she went to the hospital. she was in more pain then I’d ever seen her. and SHE STILL WAS FUCKING

[pepperpixel]

These lyrics, from the antlers songs “Kettering” and “Sylvia”. Fucking hit me so hard. The entire album hits me so fucking hard. (Aside from the bits where the whole. Toxic Relationship / Domestic abuse metaphor thing is rlly obvious. Because fucking. I CANT relate to being happy she’s gone. Sure taking care of her was difficult and stressful. And drained out so much of me. BUT I STILL. I wish so fucking badly she was still alive. If she survived. We could have set something up. Gotten her in physical therapy or hired a qualified live in caretaker. It would have been. Things would have been better then they’d been. If she lived. I wouldn’t have been crushed under that stress.. so. Yeah the whole hospice album rlly fucking hurts to listen to. (Mostly Kettering, Sylvia, Shiva and Epilogue) But. Certain things are jarringly unrelatable lol.)

But yeah. These two lyrics. At the end. I was basically the only person she could stand. But she would still get upset with me. And the feeling. The crushing feeling of hopelessness and failure when I couldn’t do the shit she wanted me to do. When I couldn’t lift her up. When I couldn’t make it better. It was terrible. And in the hospital. The last time I fucking spoke to her. All I could do was stand there pathetically. And do NOTHING to help her. And say I was fucking “sorry”. I could barely understand most of the things she said. And I could barely do anything to help her. So most of our conversation was me saying sorry till she fucking told me to get out and send in my aunt. And it’s like… the next time I went to go see her. When she died about 5 minutes after we got to the hospital. I managed to say some nice words to her fucking corpse. That made me feel a little better at the time. But looking back on it just feels fucking pathetic. Why couldn’t you say anything of substance to her when she was still alive!!!! Why were you so petrified and scared of being not enough that you couldn’t even TRY to have a conversation? Why why why?!?! What’s your fucking problem!?!?!

[specialagentlokitty]

Bobby Nash x reader - our own family

Heyyy, if you ever find the time could you please make a hurt/comfort bobby nash x platonic!reader who is a fighter based off of the prompt “ I’m not your dad” “I know…do you know that”. I’d love some more bobby as a parental figure material please and thank you. 😊 - @purplecrayola 💜

You had woken up in the hospital, you didn’t have much recollection on how you ended up there or why.

Everything was still really hazy, and but the pain you could feel radiating from your abdomen was definitely real, you could feel it.

It wasn’t bad, maybe the IV in your arm had something to do with that, you had no clue.

You laid there taking small breaths, just staring up at the ceiling, and you heard the door open.

“Hello…?” You asked softly.

You didn’t want to risk sitting up, so you waited for the nurse to come over, and she smiled warmly at you.

“Well hey you, you’re awake again.”

You furrowed your brows a little bit in confusion.

“A..again…?”

“Yes, you woke up a week ago, not for long, only a few minutes. Can you sit up for me?”

You nodded, and the nurse helped you in slowly sitting up.

She checked your vitals, took some blood and checked your injury sight.

“Do you.. do you know what happened to me?”

“You came in about two weeks ago, you had major trauma to your abdomen. Do you not remember?”

You thought for a moment, forcing the memories to come to light.

You remembered the flames, you had been called out to a huge fire at a construction site, where a couple of people were said to still be inside the building.

You had gone in to try and find them, you were with Eddie and Hen.

You heard a loud creaking noise, and you barely had time to react when scaffolding fell, and then you remembered the pain.

People screaming your name.

Rain hitting your face.

You furrowed your brows a little bit.

Was it rain?

You felt a tap on your shoulder, and you snapped out of your head to look at the nurse.

“Are you alright? Are you in pain?”

“No I uh.. I remember what happened…”

She nodded her head.

“We need to keep you in for another few days, but after that you can go home, would you have anybody you can stay with?”

“I uh.. my chief, Bobby Nash. Has he been here?”

“Oh yes, comes by every day after work.”

“Can you ask him if he can take me? I live closer to him so it’ll be easier.”

She smiled, nodding her head and you went back to think.

While you were thinking, you went back to the last thing you remembered.

You were sure it wasn’t rain, it wasn’t supposed to rain that night, maybe it was water from the trucks? But that didn’t make sense.

Why would they keep you so close to the trucks if you had been hurt?

You shook your head, taking a sip of the water that was put next to you.

You shuffled back down, deciding to get some more sleep.

You spent a lot of the time sleeping, up until the point where Bobby came to take you home, and you still sat in your own head.

He helped you to your apartment, slowly sitting you down on the couch.

“I’ve been given a strict list of what medications you’re supposed to take and when, how to look after your wound and signs of infection.”

You slowly nodded your head.

“Right now you need some food that isn’t hospital food.” He smiled.

This made you laughed a little bit.

“Can we order Chinese?”

“Oh no, you’ve got to stay away from takeout right now. So, we’re going to do some simple chicken and rice and see how that goes.”

You grumbled a little bit but said nothing.

Bobby walked to your kitchen.

“I did some shopping before coming to get you.”

“I have food.”

“You have meals you throw in the microwave, we’ve been through this (Y/N) that’s not healthy.” He scoffed.

“But cooking is effort.”

“You live five minutes away from me, you could just come over you know.”

You shrugged a little bit, shuffling down so you could lay down and you placed a hand over your stomach.

You closed your eyes, the pain medicine taking hold, letting you fall asleep again.

You weren’t sure how long you had been asleep for, but somebody was gently shaking your shoulder.

“Hey kiddo, hey.., come on..” Bobby whispered.

You opened your eyes, and you stared at him.

“It was you…”

“What was?”

Bobby helped you sit up, placing your dinner in your lap.

“I.. I thought it was raining, but it was you, crying. I.. I said something but I can’t remember what. I’m trying to remember the accident.”

“Don’t rush yourself (Y/N), you went through a lot. Just let it come back naturally.”

Bobby sat down with his own dinner, and you looked at him.

“What did I say bobby?”

He sighed.

“You called me your dad.”

You glanced back down at your plate, that part of the accident rushing back to you.

You were begging and pleading about how you didn’t want to die, about how much it hurt, begging Bobby not to leave you.

You kept calling him dad.

Bobby cleared his throat, and you looked up at him.

“I’m not your dad”

You nodded your head a little.

“I know…do you know that?”

He looked at you confused.

“You’ve been sleeping in my hospital room, the nurse told me. That’s not something a chief does for his fighters.”

“You don’t like being alone. That’s why you’ve got a cat, who by the way will be returned in the morning by Chim.”

“That doesn’t change what I said…”

“We’re not talking about this.”

You nodded your head, setting your plate down, not having touched a single thing on it.

“I’m really tired…”

You pushed yourself up with a great deal of pain, hand over your stomach.

You slowly padded away, making your way to your room and you laid down on your back, placing an arm over your eyes.

You didn’t mean to get annoyed at him, but on the medication and the pain you weren’t thinking right now.

Bobby stayed in your living room, truth be told you were like a kid to him, but right now that was a conversation for later.

His main thought was making sure you got better

[dothnotaskethme]

Not cool man...

Lottie Matthews x fem!reader

Warnings: injury and ambulance

Summary: You go to the skate park and trouble occurs

Word count: 933

There were two skate parks in town. One newer, which you hated going to, but it was closer to your house, and an older one. You’d always try to go to the old one but most of your skater friends hated it because according to them it was a ‘death trap’ sure there were nails everywhere and pieces of scrap metal but it was your favourite. The older skate park had more personality you would always try to reason, but your friends would just look at you like you were an alien. 

Against your better judgment, and because one of your skater friends' girlfriends would bring snacks, so you set out for the park. It was much bigger than the older skate park, which was nice but that means it was much more crowded. 

You make it to the skate park, say hi to Akilah, and put your bag near where she is sitting. She greets you but goes quiet again, and following her line of sight you see her girlfriend Mari teaching Akilah’s nephew how to skate, which wasn’t going all that great, the skateboard that was being used to teach was far too big for the young boy.

Taking a deep breath you put your board down and hop on. Your warmup was always on flat ground, so you spent a few minutes doing tricks before you felt like you were warmed up enough to continue on. You skated the halfpipe, the bowl, and even some rails before your small group of friends met up on the side lines. 

“We should play a game of skate,” Van says, laying down in the grass, “It’s been forever since we’ve played it.”

You nod your head as you take an offered pack of Goldfish from Akilah. Opening the pack you look out at the skatepark. There were a lot of people, and kids. You knew a game of skate would be hard with kids everywhere, riding in front of you as you try to do a trick. You were happy that Akilah's nephew was asleep beside her right now. 

“I’d be down if my board didn’t break,” Nat scoffs, her board lay by her feet, broken straight down the middle. You know for a fact she’d never use any of the group's skateboards because they weren’t hers, so it would be hard to get comfortable on it. 

Soon after everyone had a best of rest, they all got up and the first person did their trick, and because Van suggested it, she went first. It was simple, just a simple backside nosegrind off of one of the blocks into a heelflip. 

Everyone goes back and forth. Gaining letters and making tricks harder and harder till you wipe out completely. 

A girl on a longboard had come into the skatepark a little after you and your small group of friends had started playing and you felt like she’d get in the way but you didn’t think she’d be the reason you would suffer a broken arm. 

You groan in pain before sitting up and looking at your arm, “Fuck not again,” you sigh. Your left arm was always the arm you’d break, you don’t know why it was always your left arm but it was. In all your years of skating you’ve only ever broken the left arm, never the right. 

The person on the longboard came skating back around, hopping off her board and picking it up, “That doesn’t look too good,” she says, and you look up and over to her. 

“It’s broken of course it doesn’t,” was your response as you are helped up by Mari who leads you over to Akilah. The longboard girl follows the two of you over to the side line.

“Is there anything I can do to help you?” she asks and you glare over at her.

“There is, watch where you’re going when on that thing,” you point to the longboard that was now under her arm. 

She shakes her head, “I can pay for your hospital visit. I would rather not get insurance involved with this.”

“Fine.” 

Soon enough you were in the ambulance. None of your friends at the skatepark had a car, and of course today was the day Shauna had to be busy and couldn’t make it to the skatepark. 

For whatever reason your friends let the longboard girl go in the ambulance with you. You could feel her eyes bearing into the side of your head. You didn’t pay any attention to her as you just kept your eyes trained on one of the walls of the ambulance. 

Hours later you were finally out of the cramped room they had brought you too once making it to the hospital and now had a cast on your arm. You walked through the waiting room and pasted the longboard girl who got up and followed you out. 

You look over to her once out of the hospital and she smiles at you, “Everything is paid for,” she tells you, and she then looks through her bag and pulls out a few flowers and hands them to you, “Have a good day.”

And then you're left alone, walking back to your place. 

Walking into your house, kicking off your shoes and sitting on the couch you notice a small piece of paper sticking out of the flowers, which you had thrown onto the table. 

You read the small note. A name and phone number printed on it, “Huh, Lottie Matthews,” you mumble out and grab your phone, putting her number into your contacts.

[heyidkyay]

Oh my god now you’ve got the image of G and Birdie with a little baby girl into my head… you can’t not write it now! I’d love to see maybe them introducing their baby girl to the rest of the band… or anything else you can come up with 🤣

I guess I'll take this pain, instead of your name | The aftermath

A little snippet:)

--

My due date was March 23rd. Which meant that George would be getting quite the birthday present (if the baby had perfect timing) and that they’d most definitely be an Aries, which were two things I couldn’t quite get behind, but something G was ecstatic over. 

Matty had been hoping the little one would arrive a little late, two weeks late to be precise, just so that he could get one over on George and have the baby share something in common with him instead. He really had been an absolute sweetheart throughout the entire pregnancy, but my God was he pushing it trying to get me to extend the absolute hell I’d endured. 

I’d gone through almost every symptom pregnancy had to offer, from day one I’d felt absolutely vile and then when my second trimester had rolled round I’d had to deal with Braxton Hicks, an undeniable appetite (I’d felt like an actual monster), and dizziness that rivalled anything I’d ever felt before. Including the time when I’d been hit by a fucking car. 

Still, all of Matty’s efforts appeared in vain now seeing as though I went into labour on February 13th, five whole weeks before I was even due. 

To say I’d shit myself would have been an absolute understatement. I was fucking terrified to give birth, let alone that early, and to make matters worse, George had been set to play a show, which meant that he’d had no idea my water had broken until I was high as a kite on fucking gas and air, and he was finally off stage. But thankfully, I’d also been at work and Delia had been the one to walk me through the whole process, we’d headed straight to hospital, due to the fact that I should not have been going into labour this prematurely, but also because she was afraid I was going to give myself a sodding aneurysm simply down to the amount I was panicking. 

But who could blame me?

Anywho, the whole thing seemed a bit small in comparison to when I finally did give birth. We’d been blessed with a tiny, little baby girl- 7 lbs 4 ounces and with a head of thick unruly hair. But before George and I could even get a look in the doctor had told me to start pushing- again.

“They’re coming along quite quickly now, just a few more deep breaths.” 

“You what?” I ask the man in scrubs settled between my legs. Baffled wasn’t even a word I’d begin to use to describe the emotions that hit me right then, having thought I’d heard him wrong until I saw the alarming look on George’s face.

“We need you to push, you can already see baby’s head.” A midwife informs me, ushering George to once again take my hand, to comfort me. He does but he’s caught in a daze. 

“But, but I just did that bit.” I say, mostly stunned, delirious almost for a moment. 

“I know, and you did wonderfully. But baby two isn’t too far behind.” She replies, smiling down at me sincerely even as her attention diverts between a handful of other people stood in the delivery room. 

Her words seem to startle G back into reality, “Baby two? As in twins?”

“Twins! What the hell do you mean, twins?” I feel dizzy once more, head darting between the nurse beside me, G, and the doctor who’s seen a little too much of my insides for my liking. I think I start mumbling then, rambling off a ton of questions, a mile a minute, to anyone and everyone who will listen. Twins. “Are you sure? Twins?”

The nurse laughs, not unkindly, then nods, “Definitely sure, even saw it for myself.”

I’m still not really pushing, too confused, too stunned to really do much, in truth. “Are you having me on? Is this a prank?”

She appears to realise G and I aren’t messing about here and I watch on, frozen, as her whole demeanour shifts before my eyes, “Yes, sweetheart, twins. You really didn’t know?”

I shake my head and am just beyond grateful that George is here with me, holding my hand so tightly that I can truly feel it start to numb- because, what?

Things seem to take a turn then, the entire atmosphere in the room drops when beeping starts up and lights start flashing worryingly. The doctor at the other end of my bed is coaching me through it again, his voice high and harried almost, and I know then that something’s wrong and that it’s all my fault.

“What’s going on?” I ask, eyes immediately snapping over towards the nurse standing beside me but she’s gone, fiddling with the oxygen machine behind my head and then the heart monitor. “G, what- what’s happening? Are they okay? The baby. Are they?”

“You need to push. The baby is losing oxygen, we need to get them out as quickly as possible.”

My heart plummets. I start to panic. It’s my fault. My fault. I’m doing it wrong. I’m to blame. It’s all my fault. I’m messing up and they’re not even really here yet. I’m doing it all wrong.

“We need you to push harder.”

“Breathe.”

“Come on, mum. We need you to really push now.”

“That’s it.”

“Birdie, it’s alright. You’re okay, love. The baby is okay. You just need to push a bit more. Just a little longer, okay?”

I feel my head move- nod?- but the room is spinning, I reckon I’m screaming too. Sobbing, even. My mind so focused on the baby I hadn’t even known I’d been housing, let alone created. My baby. 

Two babies! Two.

I let out a loud groan. Barely even aware of the careful fingers on my temple. 

“Good girl, B.” George whispers to me, lips pressed against my cheek as he brushes hair from out of my face. “You’re doing so well. So good.”

I cry harder, I push harder.

Time seems to have stilled in its entirety, the minutes won’t move, the seconds don’t count. I am lost in this moment, my mind screaming at me to just try harder. 

“And it’s a boy!” I finally hear and then I’m weeping again, crying and clinging to George before he too is dragged away from me by nurses to cut the umbilical cords. I stare up at the ceiling, unable to do much else, chest heaving, thick tears streaming down my cheeks, and all I hear is an overwhelming buzz. The kind I’d grown so used to, starting in my left ear before it soon echos in my right. Jumping, back and forth.

“A boy, Birdie. A boy and a girl.”

I blink and George is there again, hovering over me. He takes my face in his careful hands and holds me so close that we are nose to nose. I realise then he’s crying too.

“Twins.” I whisper breathlessly, every inch of me burns, but I itch to get up, to move and see them.

“Twins.” George repeats with just as much disbelief. “Twins, B. Ours.”

A baby boy, he’d told me. A tiny thing, so full of surprises. He was born smaller than his sister, an even 6 lbs and only ten minutes behind, but his eyes are unlike anything I’ve ever seen, huge and so very innocent, placed between a scattering constellation of tawny freckles that dot his cheeks and kiss his lids. 

A girl and a boy. All ours. 

I’d been taken with them both the moment I’d set my sights on them, ‘the twins' people had dubbed them. ‘Let’s go see the twins!’ ‘The twins are finally crawling!’ ‘Somebody grab a camera, the twins are being cute again!’

Never did I ever believe I’d have a family of my own, let alone a husband or these two beautiful beings that always seemed to stare back up at me with an incredible amount of innocence. It stirs something deep within me each time they do, both the thought and the very sight of them, and when their tiny little hands wrap their way around my fingers I know that I’ll never feel this type of love again. I don’t think I could even begin to describe it.

They are beautiful and they are ours, and I know from the very bottom of my heart that I will protect them until the day that I die. Because, how could I not?

How could anyone not?

[the-type-a]

TW: Loss of a Child

I’m sorry if you (mutual or anyone) stumble upon this. I just need to write my feelings out. I don’t feel comfortable enough saying any of this out loud. I don’t feel ready to let people I know irl take a look into my mind. I don’t even know if I’d be able to say this in grief counseling.

I don’t know how people move past a loss like this. I genuinely don’t. I lost my baby and I have no idea why or what circumstances caused it.

I don’t know how people are quick to label it a miscarriage when it doesn’t feel like that at all. She was born. I gave birth at such an early stage and I held her. I. Held. Her.

I feel so guilty just being alive. Why do I get to keep going? Why do I get to experience a new day without her? Why do I get to sleep and have that brief moment to forget everything? WHY?

I don’t know if what the circumstances would have been if I was at the hospital. I don’t know if something could have been done to ensure she was still here. I don’t even know if her little lungs were even beginning to develop yet for a chance. I don’t know if all those emergency visits could have done more to help my baby. I was sent home time after time when I was experiencing so much. Why didn’t the OB on call listen to me more when I said my own mother went through the same and had to be put on medication to stop preterm labor. WHY. Could THAT have helped my baby?

My God. I should be planning my baby shower not my baby’s funeral.

I feel like I can’t breathe, I already feel like I’m dead. I just want to scream every second of the day to get all this pain out but I can’t. It doesn’t go away.

I don’t know how to comfort Marcus in this time. I want to take all his pain away but I don’t know how. He was with me every second of that traumatic experience. He helped me hold her, he cleaned me up. He has never seen me in such a vulnerable state like that. How do I help him? He’s angry.

How do people just tell me to try again? I just don’t understand how that’s even an appropriate comment to make. I feel like that’s trying to replace her in a way. I would never. Goodness no. I would never, ever, replace my baby— but it feels that way to try to move forward.

God, please. Please just let me wake up and this be a horrible nightmare. Please let me wake up and still have my baby growing peacefully until she’s ready. Please just give me my baby back! PLEASE.

[amethystdreamer114]

Spoiler Alert 🚨

If you’re on OUAT season 5 you’re safe. If not, I mean I’d still read it but you’re gonna get spoilers🤣 (it’s worth it though 🤫) Also please forgive me if the storyline isn’t exactly how it was in the show… this is sorta just off the top of my head so there could be some things I’ve forgotten🤣

Okay so I just have this thing- you know that scene in OUAT where Gold has a heart attack and then ends up in the hospital with (spoiler alert ‼️) Zelena? And you know how she sent him into a second heart attack and he ended up intubated?

Alright well here’s my thing.

The series went through that WAYYYYY too fast for my taste so let’s engage in a little “Rumple-Whumple” shall we?

First let’s think about the parts we *didn’t* see during that episode (Heart of Gold 4/17).

Rumple is in New York after being forced out of Storybrooke by Belle. When we catch up with him, he’s opening the door to his son’s old apartment and he happens to find Robin and his “family” there. With how quickly he has the heart attack and how little it takes to push him to it, we can only assume that he’s been having “build up” symptoms all day.

So what would that look like?

My idea is that he might’ve been up at 3 a.m. the night before with what he deemed “heartburn,” not recognizing the whole bit about his dark deeds poisoning his heart (or in this world, heart attack symptoms.)

Maybe because of that chest tightness and pressure, he didn’t get much sleep and that took away the time he desperately needed to rest.

So by the time the morning comes, he’s still having pains on and off and he feels exhausted. Perhaps he skips out on breakfast because he just doesn’t feel up to even making something simple.

He goes on about his day, walking the streets of New York… loud traffic, too many people, and of course his leg hurting from being without magic to stop it.

Of course he’s got Belle’s voice in his mind- he replays the moment she sent him away over and over and over until he realizes his chest is really starting to hurt.

He makes his way to Bae’s apartment, hoping he can just rest there for a bit before getting back to finding his way back to Storybrooke.

That’s when he finds Robin and the others.

The longer he stands there arguing with Robin, the more he feels lightheaded, the more the room spins, the more his anxiety spikes and the pain in his chest runs rampant…

Then, he blacks out.

Moving on to the hospital…

When Rumple wakes up, his head hurts from the fall, and his body is sore all over from the heart attack.

Now, he feels even more exhausted and pained, but *vulnerable.*

No one who he can trust is here. He’s lying in a cold hospital room in an uncomfortable bed with stiff blankets and an IV in his arm. He misses Belle now more than ever because he knows if she were there, she’d be by his side, tending to him and making sure he felt cared for and loved.

Alas, he’s here with the Honorable Thief himself, and so he acts big and bad when asking for the magic he needs to get back home.

While he waits for Robin to get back, he’s alone with his thoughts. He imagines being back home with Belle. He can practically smell her homemade bread he loves so much. He can feel the soft, slightly worn blankets around him. He hears her sweet voice saying she’ll be there in just a minute.

When Robin finally returns, he drinks the potion, thinking he’ll be healed immediately. This is where it gets interesting….

He realizes nothings changed. He’s still in pain, he’s still tired, he still feels like he’s made of lead and moving is impossible.

Soon enough he’s discovered that Zelena is right in front of him.

He knows she wants to kill him, or worse, use him for something. The more she talks, the more pressure he feels settling in his chest. His heart rate skyrockets and he feels like he can’t breathe… then, those words…

“You failed…oops.”

He can’t take it. The pain, the anxiety, the everything… his heart gives in a second time, leaving the monitor going wild as his vision fades.

He wakes up stiff, cold and pained once again. He feels the softness of a cool towel on his head and leans into it slightly before realizing it’s not Belle who is tending to him.

Despite how sore he is, he does everything in his power to scoot away from Zelena, but being intubated and weak makes it much harder.

He doesn’t like the feeling of being intubated at all, but there’s nothing he can do. He’s at the mercy of the medical staff and Zelena.

His throat feels sore and scratchy, and he wants nothing more than to be curled up in Belle’s arms, drinking a warm cup of tea.

Sadly, that doesn’t happen. He gets another threat from Zelena- putting him in the position of choosing good or choosing to live without constant pain…

He couldn’t help it. He blinked.

[oddinary4bts]

tfs jk

What did Laura say about oc that made you break up with her?

The drabble is readyyy! I didn't go in a lot of details? But at least this way you guys have an idea of what happened!

The Forgotten Spaces drabble 3 | jjk

☆warnings: a lot of insults towards OC. mentions of OC injuring her wrist. mentions of jungkook's leg/pain in his leg. It's unedited, so let me know if there are typos or if I'm missing any warnings!

☆word count: 1.1k

☆☆☆☆☆

Saturday, September 22nd

Jungkook has been silent the whole car ride. Ever since they left the studio, all he’s done is listen to Laura. She’s angry, visibly so, and he almost doesn’t recognize her.

“I can’t believe it,” she says for the thousandth time. “The way you just ran to that bitch? What the fuck was that?” She scoffs, shakes her head and adds, “And you really thought I’d buy her a boba? What the fuck is wrong with you? You fucked her and she broke your heart and then you want me to treat her nicely, in your dreams.”

He sighs, leans his head against the seat, face angled towards the world outside of the passenger window. He massages his leg mindlessly – for some reason it’s hurting right now, more than it has in days.

“You should have seen the way she looked at me,” Laura continues. “What a fucking delusional bitch, what did she think would happen? She’s so desperate for your attention she had to cause a scene.”

As if you tripped on purpose. Jungkook’s heart clenches in his chest as he remembers how you fell and how he ran to you. How everything inside of him went on alarm mode the moment you got hurt.

He still can’t believe he ran to you like he did. In front of everyone and his girlfriend at that. He’s not embarrassed at all, just… it makes something ache so deeply in his heart that breathing has been hard since you left to go to the hospital.

“She doesn’t even dance that well,” Laura drawls. “Who trips like that when they’ve danced their whole life? She should just drop out of the crew.”

Jungkook grits his teeth, letting out an annoyed sigh. Of course it doesn’t go unnoticed to Laura.

“What are you sighing about?” Laura asks, venom dripping out of her mouth. “You know I’m right. Didn’t you say she couldn’t even make a choreography and had to ask you for help? What a fucking loser.”

“Alright,” Jungkook finally says. “I get it, you’re mad. Can you please stop?”

Laura scoffs, but to his surprise she does fall silent, up until they get to the house. As she parks behind Taehyung’s car, Jungkook finally looks at her for the first time since they left the studio.

“I hope you have some good apologies,” she says, and she gets out of her car before Jungkook even has time to say anything. He watches her, as she puts her hands on her hips and waits for him to follow.

He really doesn’t recognize her. Laura has always been sweet, so sweet he believed she was like the sun, a treat to life on Earth. But right now she feels like she’s erupted, and the magnetic waves have fucked the world over.

He takes a deep breath to steel himself, before finally following her out of the car. She remains blissfully silent as they walk in, and she doesn’t greet Taehyung that’s lounging on the couch when she walks in front of it. Taehyung cocks an eyebrow as he meets Jungkook’s gaze, who just shrugs his shoulders before following Laura. She’s already halfway up the stairs, and Jungkook winces as pain shoots up his knee on the way up.

She’s already sitting on his bed when he gets in, turning on his LED lights before shutting the door softly behind him.

“So?” Laura asks, voice surprisingly low.

He meets her gaze, nibbling at his piercing. “So what?”

“Are you not going to apologize?”

He shuts his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose, trying to get the annoyance at bay. “I acted the way I would have acted with any of the members of the crew. I have nothing to apologize for.”

Laura scoffs again, and Jungkook can tell she’s about to go on another tirade. He’s tired of hearing her insult you, so he shuts her out as she starts. She repeats delusional bitch so often when talking about you, and Jungkook almost wants to tell her to shut the fuck up. To never talk about you that way because there’s nothing about that is bitchy. And you’ve got even less delusion in you. You’re just someone he was close to once and isn’t anymore. Nothing else. He wishes Laura could see that.

Could see that he chose her over you all those months ago.

“She’s disgusting,” Laura concludes, and when the silence lasts, Jungkook finally pays attention to her again.

“Listen, I’m fucking exhausted,” he says. “I’d like to take a shower and go to bed. We can talk about this all tomorrow morning.”

She glares at him, before nodding stiffly. “Okay. I hope you’ll learn to apologize overnight.”

The second sentence is uttered so low that Jungkook pretends he hasn’t heard it. But he has. He’s heard all the insults she’s said, he’s seen something in her he never would have thought was there.

And as he lies in bed, long after Laura has gone to sleep next to him, he thinks he’s appalled. He can’t believe he chose her when that’s what she is. When a monster like this was lurking just under the surface. And it kills him that he’s seen this side of her, because how is he supposed to continue like this with someone that thinks disrespect is fine? That thinks it’s deserved, when at the end of the day you didn’t really do anything wrong?

Except telling him that you shouldn’t have slept together… which months later he totally agrees with you.

He remembers the conversation he’s had with Jo, about a month ago. How she asked him if he regretted his decision. That day he said yes, but that he wouldn’t change things.

He casts a look towards Laura. She looks serene, angelic asleep like this, and he wishes she had never said what she said about you. Because now he knows he won’t ever be able to look at her the same way, won’t ever be able to just be content in her presence.

Today, if Jo asked if he regrets his decision, he’d say yes, and that he wants to change things.

He turns to lie on his back, looking up at the ceiling even though there’s nothing to see up there. He sighs, glances at Laura once again.

And that’s when he realizes that he’s going to break up with her.

[eddiesgorlie]

Fear of Tomorrow

Austin Butler x Chronically ill! Reader

Summary: When Austin is gone for interviews reader has a hard time at home, Austin takes care of her when he returns home.

Warnings: Mentions of depression, needles and chronic pain. It is kind of a sad/fluffy fic:)

Word count: 1,003

I loosely based this fic on me and how I’d like to be treated. As a young person with chronic illnesses and pain you don’t get a lot of sympathy from others. I’ve been dealing with CRPS, RLS, Raynauds and arthritis since I was a kid and am currently waiting on more diagnosis’s. For anyone in the chronic illness community or anyone that needs to chat, my messages are open, I’m here for y’all. I love y’all<3

I was laying in bed, the blackout curtains closed and the clock read noon. Austin was currently in New York doing interviews so I was alone and my depression was hitting me harder than ever. I’d gone to the doctor alone yesterday and my heart sank when she told me it was time for more tests, dealing with pain like this in my twenties wasn’t normal and there were probably more illnesses to add to my already mile long list. The arthritis in my hands had gotten worse recently and as a full time writer, that wasn’t good. My publisher had been calling me, asking for book signings, a new book idea, anything at this point. I ignored her calls and just laid in bed staring at the wall and pile of tissues in front of me.

Austin was coming home today and the last thing I wanted him to see was me in this state, he was on such an excited high from all of his jobs and the attention but I couldn’t help it, every time I tried to move my back screamed at me and I was too weak. Most likely from dehydration and the fact that I’ve been living on snack foods. I wanted nothing more than to be that dumb carefree college kid again where my biggest worry was if my slutty halloween costume would catch my crushes eye. Now my worries were when would my next hospital stay be? If Austin leaves me how will I support myself?

I heard the door open and heavy boots walk into the house. “Honey, I’m home!” He yelled. That had become his homecoming tradition. His footsteps were lighter once he took his boots off and our bedroom door was pushed open. I squinted my eyes at the bright light streaming in the room. “Hey hun. What’s going on?” He asked, sitting on the bed. I took a deep breath to try to compose myself but failed miserably as I broke down into sobs. “I’m in pain and probably dehydrated and I’ve been living on peanut butter crackers for the past couple days. Katherine keeps calling to see if I want to do book signings or if I’m writing anything but I can’t even write!” I cried. “I went to the doctor yesterday and she said I need more tests because something else is going on. I’m so scared.” I cried.

“Baby, why didn’t you call to tell me about all of this?” He asked. “I didn’t want to bother you and weigh you down.” I said. “You never bother me, I tell you all the things going on with me and you do the same with me.” He said. “I’m so sorry.” I cried. “No, baby. Don’t apologize. Can I hold you?” He asked. “Y-yeah. Not my hands.” I sniffled. He leaned against the headboard and pulled me onto his chest. I winced at the ache in my back. “Have you drank anything?” He asked. “I had a glass of water over the past couple days.” I said. “Are you hungry?” He asked. “Yeah.” I said. “Do you want me to go grab you some food?” He asked. “Yeah..” I said.

He stood up and set me up comfortably in bed. “I’m sorry Mrs. Vampire.” He said, opening the curtains. “Ah, I’m melting.” I said, trying to have some fun. He handed me the TV remote and left the room. I scrolled through the guide and didn’t find anything good so I put on my favorite Forrest Gump. A couple minutes later Austin came back with two peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and my pink Stanley filled to the brim with water. “I want you to eat and drink.” He said sitting in bed next to me. “Thank you, Aus.” I smiled. “What kind of test does the doctor want you to have done?” He asked. “Labs.” I sighed. “Damnit. Again?” He asked, knowing my crippling fear of needles. “Yep, again.” I sighed. “I’m sorry, honey.” He said. “I’ll get through, I just want to know whats wrong with me.” I said. “Nothing’s wrong with you, honey.” He said. “You know what I mean.” I said. He nodded and took a bite of his sandwich. “I called my agent and publicist and told them to clear my schedule for the next couple weeks. The only thing I have to attend is the Oscars and of course if you can, I want you there with me.” He smiled. “Aus, you don’t have to do that for me. I want you to do interviews and photo shoots.” I sighed.

My big thing was that I never wanted to be a burden to him, I told him about my problems on the second date and promised him that if something ever was holding him down that we would go our separate ways. His career was going so well and I couldn’t be more proud of him and I wouldn’t let anything slow him down, especially me. “Y/n, you’re my girl, I’m going to take care of you. I love you so much.” He kissed my head. “I love you, Aus.” I said.

After we finished eating and Austin took the plates into the kitchen and came back into the room, I felt my eyes drooping as the exhaustion from the past couple of days hit me. “Are you tired, baby?” He asked. I nodded. “Every time I try to sleep the RLS kicks in and I just end up walking around the apartment.” I sighed. “C’mere.” He said, helping me lay between his legs, my head resting on his shoulder. He took my leg in his hands and started gently massaging. I let out a happy sigh and dropped my head back as I finally felt a little relief from the past couple days of hell. “Get some rest. I’m right here.” He whispered in my ear. I gladly obliged and let sleep finally reach me as I laid in his warm embrace.

Taglist:

@Purejasmine

@violetdaze25

@maddiemunson333

@Shelbygeek

@ABloversblog

[mirrornetsblog]

i remember the first time i got introduced to ever after high was when I was in first grade, my dad came back from his trip and bought me a little princess bedsheet since he knew I loved (still do) princesses! little did we both know.. I’d love these princesses even more!

one night in second grade, i had a fever and i just went to the hospital and then directly after that i went to get a haircut (i cut it short omg my mom loved it 😭), after that i got a headache from the hairspray and took a shower, my fever was getting worse so i had a little sleepover in my parents room.. and guess what we watched? for the first time EVER, i watched ever after high. I watched way too wonderland first since me and my mom both loved wonderland, and i was HOOKED. i knew from that night on, that ever after high was my forever comfort show. it helped me so much with my fever, i had to wake up in the middle of the night to get some medicine and I watched ever after high during those times.

i then watched all the little webisodes and loved, i mean LOVED kitty and maddie and cerise.

fast forward to 13, i forgot about ever after high and its whole existence. but one time, i was having insane stomach problems because i had covid and insane stomach problems is a forever side effect sadly. i was in my bed crying and was like “let me turn on the tv to get my mind off it.” i turned on netflix and saw ever after high. a wave of nostalgia hit me and I saw way too wonderland again 🥹🥹! something about way too wonderland just helps so much with the pain. I was HOOOOOKED again and my mom came in to give me some tea and saw me watching ever after high and we both made eye contact and smiled 😭 something about ever after high is so special i cannot explain it!

i was obsessed with ever after high, i then watched dragon games and fell in LOVE with the evil queen. she was so beautiful and I remembered my mom entered my room once when I was little, she was like “who is that?” and I was like “the evil queen” then she was like “ohh she’s beautiful oh my god.” but i was like, “yeah but she’s bad!” 😭😭

(like mother like daughter right? 😭)

I then rewatched ever after high and LOVED raven! i saw myself in her I couldn’t explain what it’s basically watching myself play out on those scenes..

I then read every single fanfiction about ever after high and till this day im hooked, there’s not a day that goes by I don’t miss those stories and our princesses.. i miss them so much i would do anything to bring my show back.

[azurestar]

With the Eras Tour movie coming out this weekend, I thought I'd post some of my Batman/Taylor Swift thoughts.

My Tears Ricochet reminds me so strongly of Bruce and Dick's relationship I'm not 100% convinced it wasn't actually written about them. I could probably do a full lyrical analysis to this song, but for now I'll point to a few selected quotes.

Even on my worst day, did I deserve, babe All the hell you gave me? 'Cause I loved you, I swear I loved you 'Til my dying day

You know I didn’t want to have to haunt you But what a ghostly scene You wear the same jewels that I gave you As you bury me

In Swift's discography, the "jewels" represent the albums she lost the rights to, which her former label continues to profit off of. In this context, the jewel is Robin's identity— which Bruce gives Jason weeks after firing Dick.

I didn't have it in myself to go with grace 'Cause when I'd fight, you used to tell me I was brave. And if I'm dead to you, why are you at the wake? Cursing my name, wishing I stayed ... And you're tossing out blame, drunk on this pain Crossing out the good years

When Bruce fires Dick, he tells him he wants Robin to stay dead. When Dick confronts him about taking on a new Robin, he at first refuses to acknowledge “the years we spent together as Batman and Robin”— before breaking down and angrily admitting that he missed him.

Mastermind reminds me of Barbara —specifically, her conversation with Helena in Birds of Prey #84, when she apologizes for psychologically manipulating her. Read the bridge of Mastermind…

No one wanted to play with me as a little kid So I've been scheming like a criminal ever since To make them love me and make it seem effortless This is the first time I've felt the need to confess And I swear I'm only cryptic and Machiavellian 'cause I care.

…and then the following panels.

Right Where You Left Me is more meta than the others on this list, but it reminds me of Tim— still Robin, still seventeen after all these years.

Everybody moved on I stayed there Dust collected on my pinned-up hair They expected me to find somewhere Some perspective, but I sat and stared Right where you left me … Did you ever hear about the girl who got frozen? Time went on for everybody else, she won't know it She's still 23 inside her fantasy How it was supposed to be…

In a hypothetical edit, I’d change the self-deprecating next line to “Did you hear about the girl who lives in delusion? / Heroes die every day / You don’t have to lose it." You know:

You’re Losing Me reminds me of Stephanie’s time as Robin + War Games.

I gave you all my best me's, my endless empathy And all I did was bleed as I tried to be the bravest soldier Fighting in only your army Frontlines, don't you ignore me I'm the best thing at this party (You're losin' me)

Despite Batman's discouragement, Stephanie gave being Robin everything she had, throwing herself in the line of fire to protect him. Instead of rewarding her efforts, Batman pushes her away, limits her information access, and eventually fires her.

And I wouldn't marry me either A pathological people pleaser Who only wanted you to see her

As War Games progresses, Stephanie's overwhelmed with guilt. All she ever wanted was Batman's support.

Finally, the heart failure theme. Swift incorporates a heartbeat into the track, and “you’re losing me” references a coding hospital patient. The final lyrics:

Stop, you're losin' me Stop, you're losin' me Stop, you're losin' me I can't find a pulse My heart won't start anymore

[roundtriptojupiter]

i just sprinted across campus to escape the rain, and now i want to talk about my experiences as a cane user while i remember how to breathe again.

i started using a cane 4 years ago, at the end of elementary school. i’ve been chronically disabled (likely fibromyalgia, but currently diagnosed with myofascial pain syndrome; it’s an inaccurate diagnosis, but at least it’s something) my entire life—i struggled to sit cross-legged in kindergarten because it hurt too much, and the first accommodation i ever needed was permission to sit in a normal chair during circle time. i was born early, and both of my parents had issues with their legs in their lives; my father as a child learning to walk, and my mother in her teens, until she got knee surgery when she was 19, but neither were the same as what i have.

i’ve always been an indoor person. i’ve never enjoyed sports, but to this day i don’t know if that’s because i genuinely don’t like them, or because i always end up hurt. so my parents always thought i was just lazy and exaggerating and needed to get in shape. the third one always makes me laugh. when i look at myself in the mirror, i can count all of my ribs. i inherited it from my dad; his nickname was ‘rice’ in high school because he was white and skinny. maybe i’ll grow out of it, i don’t know. people tell me i look sick, and it kind of sucks to tell them that they’re right.

the old pastor at the church i grew up in was a professional volleyball player. there was an inter-church volleyball tournament held every year, and monthly volleyball games within the congregation. when i was in elementary school, i loved it. i loved volleyball more than any other sport i’d ever played; for the most part, i didn’t have to run anywhere, and that was what made the difference. and players were swapped around a lot, so i got a lot of breaks, and it seemed like... maybe i had just been lazy. maybe this was my lucky break.

and my parents signed me up for volleyball camp. i don’t remember how old i was—maybe twelve, thirteen? i could do the math, but my brain is too exhausted. it was only a week long. we did drills, we played games; every day i went back to my parents sobbing and exhausted, with burning red marks on my arms, barely able to stand and far worse than any other child there, even the other ‘lazy’ ones. that was the moment everyone in my life finally realized that something was wrong.

thus started a long, frustrating process and the wonders of the canadian healthcare system.

people love to compliment canada’s healthcare. they love to compare it to usamerica’s, they love to stand on their soapbox and say how great it is— i can always tell whether those people are disabled or not. because, yes. there are a lot of pros. but anybody who preaches that it’s wonderful and flawless will get my cane to their shins. because the reality is, the wait lists span years, and even when you live five minutes away from one of the best youth hospitals in the country, maybe even north america, sometimes they’ll put you through hell for three years straight, then give you the wrong diagnosis, throw an attempt at fixing you at the wall that doesn’t work, and then expect you to move on with your life.

i only have two vivid memories of that three-year process while i was still in elementary school: the beginning, and the end. my first major specialist appointment was with a neurologist. he stuck pins in my leg and arm and sent electric shocks through them to evaluate muscle responses. it was one of the worst pains i’ve ever felt. to this day, i can’t sustain a static shock without my leg buckling or my hand seizing up. my mom held my hand, and i was screaming; i still cry when i think about it. the test came back with nothing.

the end was when i finally saw a physiotherapist. at the time, it felt like a miracle; he spoke to me for what seemed like only ten, fifteen minutes, and gave me a diagnosis and a physiotherapy plan. that was in 2021. the physiotherapy turned out to be hell; i only lasted a few months, even doing the most basic of exercises, and my parents grew sour at the idea of driving me to the other end of the city on a regular basis. so that all shattered into nothingness.

but that’s all just an aside: the real point is, the first time i used a cane was on a school trip to a large city, at the end of elementary school. it was going to involve a lot of walking; something i knew by that point would be difficult. and so my mother gave me a gift. an old, simple, dark red, wooden cane. the same one she’d used in her teen years before her surgery, and kept just in case. i genuinely don’t know if it’s good or not; i don’t know if i could afford a better one. i’m still using it. i think buying a new one would make the reality too real—that i will not get a magic fix, like my mother did.

on that trip, my very first time using a cane, with my grade eight class, was the also the first time that anybody made fun of it. while walking through the city in small groups, another boy in my class called me a grandma from across the street. i ran after him and hit him (not hard) with it, and he kept his mouth shut for the rest of the trip.

when i started grade nine, my high school was a twenty-to-thirty minute walk from my house. (another aside, shorter this time: after almost every other form of exercise was slowly nixed out of my life, walking became my everything. it still kills, but it’s better than anything else.) and it was too much. by the time i reached school every day, i was unable to stand for the national anthem. that was when the cane became a regular part of my life; i took it with me every day for support while i walked, and even when i didn’t need it, it made my disability somewhat more visible. the respectful people saw it and realized that there was something wrong with me. the assholes saw it and were assholes.

here’s another thing about me: i used to have a cousin. i have a lot of cousins, actually, but the one in question was almost my twin. we were born in the same week, and shared a birthday every year growing up, and looked nearly identical—when our hair was the same length, that is. he and i were complete opposites in most other respects; i was a quiet, well-behaved (read: neurodivergent) kid, and he was a loud, trouble-making (read: neurodivergent) kid. but we got along. and we went to the same high school, and it always stunned people to find out that we were cousins.

in grade nine one of my cousin’s friends made fun of my cane, in front of him and me. my cousin shoved his own friend against a locker and threatened him because of it. i wasn’t made fun of for my cane at that school for the rest of my time there (unless you count the things that people say when they don’t mean to be mean, but have also never witnessed someone my age with a cane before. i don’t, but they still hurt.)

my cousin’s gone now. he overdosed on xanax and killed himself in october. it’s my fondest memory of him, when he turned on his own friend to defend me. i didn’t see him for two years before he passed because of covid quarantines and precautions. i genuinely don’t remember the last time i did see him.

and here’s one last thing: people think that growing up disabled with a parent that had suffered similarly would make things easier. but it was the opposite. because my mother wasn’t chronically disabled. she had horrible knee problems that were fixed after years of physiotherapy and a major operation. she was also labeled as gifted and diagnosed with something i forget the name of, which means that it takes more effort for her to perform tasks than it does for other people. and all that has done is this:

a more recent story. i’m currently spending a month living in québec on a university campus. initially, i was slotted to be staying in an off-campus apartment; they moved me to a residence building before i arrived because they knew of my disability. my room is on the fourth floor. there is no elevator. i wonder every day if my would-have-been apartment would have had less stairs.

my mother drove me there. when we arrived, she carried my suitcase up the stairs for me, because i was incapable of doing so myself. and when i complained, mostly lightheartedly—“oh, doing these stairs is going to suck all month”—she turned on me and told me that when she had been just a little bit older than me, she’d done a program in québec and lived on the third floor with no elevator, and she’d just had major knee surgery. and she’d been fine.

it was nothing for her. i still remember her exact words, four weeks later. i don’t know if she’ll ever truly take me seriously, because to her, she was disabled too, and she got through it. i’ve yet to find a way to convince her that it’s different. that not everything has a magic cure if you just work through it.

i’m eighteen now. she was nineteen when she had knee surgery. maybe when i turn nineteen, i’ll finally get a new cane. it’ll be symbolic, of something. i don’t know what. hopefully i’ll figure it out.

[96harmony96]

Chapter 12

Lauren and I arrived back in Manhattan just before midnight on Sunday. We’d spent the previous night sleeping apart, but most of the day together in the master bed. Kissing and touching. Laughing and whispering.

By silent agreement we didn’t talk about painful things during the rest of our time away. We didn’t turn on the television or radio, because it seemed wrong to share our time with anyone. We walked on the beach again. We made long, slow, lazy love on the third-story deck. We played cards and she won every hand. We recharged and reminded ourselves that what we’d found with each other was worth fighting for.

It was the most perfect day of my life.

We returned to my apartment when we got back into the city. Lauren unlocked the door for us with the key I’d given her, and we entered the darkened space as quietly as possible so that we didn’t wake Cary. Lauren gave me one of her soul-melting kisses good night and headed to the guest room, and I crawled into my lonely bed without her. Missing her. I wondered how long we’d be sleeping apart from each other. Months? Years?

Hating to think of it, I closed my eyes and started to drift.

The light flicked on.

“Camila. Get up.” Lauren strode into the room and straight to my dresser, digging through my clothes.

I blinked at her, noting that she’d changed into slacks and a button-down dress shirt. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s Cary,” she said grimly. “He’s in the hospital.”

* * *

 A cab was waiting for us at the curb when we left my apartment building. Lauren ushered me in, then slid in beside me.

The cab seemed to pull away very slowly. Everything seemed to be moving slowly.

I clutched at Lauren’s sleeve. “What happened?”

“He was attacked Friday night.”

“How do you know?”

“Your mother and Stanton both left messages on my cell phone.”

“My mother . . . ?” I looked at her blankly. “Why didn’t she . . . ?”

No, she couldn’t call me. I hadn’t had my phone. Guilt and worry drowned me, making it hard to breathe.

“Camila.” She put her arm around my shoulders, urging me to rest my head against her. “Don’t worry until we know more.”

“It’s been days, Lauren. And I wasn’t here.”

Tears poured down my face and wouldn’t stop, even after we arrived at the hospital. I barely registered the exterior of the building, my attention dulled by the hard-driving anxiety pounding through me. I thanked God for Lauren, who was so calm and in control. A staff member provided the number of Cary’s room, but his helpfulness ended there. Lauren made a few middle-of-the-night phone calls that got me access to see Cary, even though it was well outside visiting hours. Lauren had been a very generous benefactor at times and that wasn’t easily dismissed or forgotten.

When I stepped into Cary’s private room and saw him, my heart shattered so completely, my knees went weak. Only Lauren kept me from falling. The man I thought of as my brother, the best friend I’d ever had or ever would have, lay silent and unmoving in the bed. His head was bandaged and his eyes blackened. One of his arms was stuck with intravenous lines, while the other was in a cast. I wouldn’t have recognized him, if I hadn’t known who he was.

Flowers covered every flat surface, cheerful and colorful bouquets. There were balloons, too, and a few cards. I knew some would be from my mother and Stanton, who were certainly paying for Cary’s care as well.

We were his family. And everyone had been there for him but me.

Lauren led me closer, her arm tight around my waist to hold me up. I was sobbing, the tears flowing thick and hot. It was everything I could do to remain silent.

Still, Cary must have heard me or sensed me. His eyelids fluttered, then opened. His beautiful green eyes were bloodshot and unfocused. It took him a minute to find me. When he did, he blinked a few times, and then tears started rolling down his temples.

“Cary.” I rushed to him and slipped my hand in his. “I’m here.”

He gripped me so tightly, it was painful. “Camila.”

“I’m sorry I took so long. I didn’t have my phone. I had no idea. I would’ve been here if I’d known.”

“S’okay. You’re here now.” His throat worked on a swallow. “God . . . everything hurts.”

“I’ll get a nurse,” Lauren said, running her hand down my back before slipping silently out of the room.

I saw a small pitcher and cup with straw on the rolling tray table. “Are you thirsty?”

“Very.”

“Can I sit you up? Or no?” I was afraid to do anything to cause him pain.

“Yeah.”

Using the remote lying near his hand, I raised the top part of the bed so that he was reclined. Then I brought the straw to his lips and watched him drink greedily.

He relaxed with a sigh. “You’re a sight for sore eyes, baby girl.”

“What the hell happened?” I set the empty cup down and grabbed his hand again.

“Fuck if I know.” His voice was weak, almost a whisper. “Got jumped. With a bat.”

“With a bat?” Just the thought made me physically ill. The brutality of it. The violence . . . “Was he insane?”

“Of course,” he snapped, a deep line of pain between his brows.

I backed up a half step. “I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t. Shit. I’m—” His eyes closed. “I’m exhausted.”

Just then the nurse came in wearing scrubs decorated with cartoon tongue depressors and animated stethoscopes. She was young and pretty, with dark hair and sloe eyes. She checked Cary over, took his blood pressure, then pressed the button on a remote wrapped around the guardrail.

“You can self-administer every thirty minutes for pain,” she told him. “Just press this button. It won’t dispense a dose if it’s not time, so you don’t have to worry about pressing it too often.”

“Once is too often,” he muttered, looking at me.

I understood his reluctance; he had an addictive personality. He’d traveled a short ways down the junkie road before I kicked some sense into him.

But it was a relief to see the lines of pain on his forehead smooth out and his breathing settle into a deeper rhythm.

The nurse looked at me. “He needs his rest. You should come back during visiting hours.”

Cary looked at me desperately. “Don’t go.”

“She’s not going anywhere,” Lauren said, reentering the room. “I’ve arranged to have a cot brought in tonight.”

I didn’t think it was possible to love Lauren more than I already did, but she somehow kept finding ways to prove me wrong.

The nurse smiled shyly at Lauren.

“Cary could use more water,” I told her, watching her pull her gaze reluctantly away from my girlfriend to look at me.

She grabbed the pitcher and left the room.

Lauren stepped closer to the bed and spoke to Cary. “Tell me what happened.”

Cary sighed. “Trey and I went out Friday, but he had to bail early. I walked him out to grab a cab, but it was nuts right in front of the club, so we went around the corner. He’d just taken off when I got nailed in the back of the head. Took me straight down and whaled on me a few times. Never got a chance to defend myself.”

My hands began to shake, and Cary’s thumb rubbed soothingly over the back.

“Hey,” he murmured. “Teaches me. Don’t stick my dick in the wrong chick.”

“What?”

I watched Cary’s eyes drift shut, and a moment later it was clear he was sleeping. I glanced helplessly across the bed at Lauren.

“I’ll look into it,” she said. “Step out with me for a minute.”

I followed her, my gaze repeatedly turning back to Cary. When the door closed behind us, I said, “God, Lauren. He looks terrible.”

“He got knocked around good,” she said grimly. “He’s got a skull fracture, a nasty concussion, three cracked ribs, and a broken arm.”

The list of injuries was horribly painful to listen to. “I don’t understand why someone would do this.”

She pulled me close and pressed her lips to my forehead. “The doctor said it’s possible Cary will be allowed to leave in a day or two, so I’ll make arrangements for home care. I’ll also let your work know you won’t be coming in.”

“Cary’s agency needs to know.”

“I’ll see to it.”

“Thank you.” I hugged her hard. “What would I do without you?”

“You’re never going to find out.”

* * *

 My mother woke me at nine the next morning, gliding fretfully into Cary’s room as soon as visiting hours began. She pulled me out to the hallway, drawing the attention of everyone in the immediate area. It was early, but she looked amazing in eye-catching red-soled Louboutins and an ivory sleeveless sheath dress.

“Camila. I can’t believe you went the entire weekend without your cell phone! What were you thinking? What if there had been an emergency?”

“There was an emergency.”

“Exactly!” She threw up one hand, since the other arm had her clutch tucked beneath it. “No one could get hold of you or Lauren. She left a message saying that she was taking you away for the weekend, but no one knew where you were. I can’t believe she was so irresponsible! What was she thinking?”

“Thank you,” I interjectedes because she was getting wound up and repeating herself, “for taking care of Cary. It means a lot to me.”

“Well, of course.” My mother took it down a notch. “We love him, too, you know. I’m devastated this happened.”

Her lower lip trembled and she dug in her bag for her ever-ready handkerchief.

“Are the police investigating?” I asked.

“Yes, of course, but I don’t how much good it will do.” She dabbed at the corners of her eyes. “I love Cary dearly, but he’s a tramp. I doubt he can recall all the women and men he’s been with. Remember the charity auction you attended with Lauren? When I bought you that stunning red dress?”

“Yes.” I’d never forget it. It was the night Lauren and I first made love.

“I’m certain Cary slept with a blonde he danced with that night—while they were there! They disappeared and when they came back . . . Well, I know what a satisfied man looks like. I would be surprised if he knew her name.”

I remembered what Cary had said before he fell asleep. “You think this attack has something to do with someone he slept with?”

My mother blinked at me, seeming to remember that I didn’t know anything. “Cary was told to keep his hands off ‘her’—whoever ‘her’ is. The detectives will be coming back later today to try to pull some names out of him.”

“Jesus.” I scrubbed at my eyes, needing my face wash badly and a cup of coffee even more. “They need to talk to Tatiana Cherlin.”

“Who’s that?”

“Someone Cary’s been seeing. I think she’d get a kick out of something like this. Cary’s boyfriend caught them together and she ate it up with a spoon. She loved being the cause of the drama.”

I rubbed at the back of my neck, then realized the tingle I felt was for another reason entirely. I looked over my shoulder and saw Lauren approaching, her long legs closing the distance between us with that measured stride. Dressed for work in a suit, with a large cup of coffee in one hand and a small black bag in the other, she was exactly what I needed at just the moment I needed her.

“Excuse me.” I walked toward Lauren and straight into her arms.

“Hey,” she greeted me, with her lips in my hair. “How are you holding up?”

“It’s awful. And senseless.” My eyes burned. “He didn’t need another disaster in his life. He’s had more than his share.”

“So have you, and you’re suffering along with him.”

“And you’re doing the same with me.” I pushed up onto my tiptoes and kissed her jaw, then stepped back. “Thank you.”

She handed me the coffee. “I brought some things for you—a change of clothes, your cell and tablet, bathroom stuff.”

I knew her thoughtfulness had to come at a price—literally. After a weekend away, she should be digging her way out of a small mountain of work worth millions, not running around taking care of me. “God. I love you.”

“Camila!” My mother’s startled exclamation made me wince. She advocated withholding the words I love you until the wedding night.

“Sorry, Mom. Can’t help it.”

Lauren brushed coffee-warmed fingertips down my cheek.

“Lauren,” my mother began, coming up right beside us, “you should know better than to take Camila away without any means of calling for help. You do know better.”

She was clearly referring to my past. I wasn’t sure why she thought I was so delicate that I couldn’t function on my own. She was far more fragile.

I shot a sympathetic glance Lauren’s way.

She held out the bag she’d brought for me, the calm and confident look on her face conveying her total comfort in dealing with my mother. So I left her to it. I didn’t have it in me to deal with her until I’d caffeinated myself.

I slipped back into Cary’s room and found him awake. Just the sight of him made the tears well and my throat close up tight. He was such a strong and vibrant man, so full of life and mischief. It was the worst pain to see him looking so broken.

“Hey,” he muttered. “Quit the waterworks every time you see me. Makes me feel like I’m gonna die or something.”

Hell. He was right. My tears didn’t do him any good. Instead, what little relief they gave me just put more of the burden on him. I needed to be a better friend than that.

“I can’t help it,” I said, sniffling. “It sucks. Someone beat me to it and kicked your ass before I could.”

“Is that right?” His scowl faded. “What’d I do now?”

“You didn’t tell me about Brett and Six-Ninths.”

“Oh yeah . . .” A bit of his old sparkle came back into his eyes. “How’d he look?”

“Good. Really good.” Very hot, but I kept that thought to myself. “Although right now, he might not look much better than you.”

I told him about the kiss and the resulting fight.

“Jauregui threw down, huh?” Cary shook his head, then winced and stopped. “Taking on Brett took guts—he’s a barroom brawler who loves a good fight.”

“And Lauren is a trained mixed martial artist.” I began digging through the bag Lauren had brought. “Why didn’t you tell me Captive Soul had signed with a major label?”

“Because you didn’t need to fall into that hole again. There are girls who can date rock stars; you’re not one of them. All that time on the road, all those groupies . . . You’d drive yourself and him insane.”

I shot him a look. “I’m in total agreement with you. But I’m insulted that you’d think I’d run back to him just because he made it big.”

“That’s not why. I didn’t want you to hear their first single if it could be helped.”

“‘Golden’?”

“Yeah . . .” He studied me as I headed toward the bathroom. “What’d you think of it?”

“It’s better than a song titled ‘Tapped That.’”

“Ha!” He waited until I came out again with my face washed and hair brushed. “So . . . you kissed him.”

“That’s the beginning and end of that story,” I said dryly. “Have you talked to Trey since Friday?”

“No. They’ve got my phone somewhere. My wallet, too, I’m guessing. When I came to, I was here, wearing this”—he pinched at his hospital gown—“freakin’ thing.”

“I’ll get your stuff for you.” I dumped my toiletries back in the bag, then went to sit in the chair beside him with my coffee in hand. “Lauren’s making arrangements to get you home with a private nurse.”

“Ooh . . . that’s a fantasy of mine. Can you make sure the nurse is hot? And single?”

My brows rose. Inside, though, I was so relieved to see him looking and sounding more like himself. “You’re obviously feeling better, if you’re feeling frisky. How did things go with Trey?”

“Good.” He sighed. “I’d worried that the party wouldn’t be his scene. I forgot that he knew a lot of the people already.”

Cary and Trey had met at a photo shoot, with Cary modeling and Trey assisting the photographer behind the camera. “I’m glad you had a good time.”

“Yeah. He was totally set on not getting laid.”

“So you tried . . . after you said you wouldn’t.”

“This is me we’re talking about.” He rolled his eyes. “Hell yeah, I tried. He’s hot and great in bed—”

“—and in love with you.”

He released his pent-up breath in a rush, wincing as his chest expanded. “No one’s perfect.”

I had to bite back a laugh. “Cary Taylor. Loving you isn’t a character defect.”

“Well, it’s not very smart. I was such an asshole to him,” he muttered, looking disgruntled. “He could do so much better.”

“That isn’t your decision to make for him.”

“Someone needs to make it.”

“And you’re volunteering because you love him, too.” My mouth curved. “Don’t you think that sounds ass-backwards?”

“I don’t love him enough.” All traces of levity were wiped from his face, leaving behind the wounded and lonely man I knew all too well. “I can’t be faithful like he wants. Just him and me. I like women. Love them, actually. I’d be cutting off half of who I am. Just thinking about it makes me resent him.”

“You fought too hard to accept yourself,” I said softly, remembering that time with more than a little twinge of sadness. “I totally understand and don’t disagree, but have you tried talking to Trey about it?”

“Yes, I talked to him about it. He listened.” He rubbed his fingers over his brow. “I get it, I do. If he told me he wanted to bang some other guy while seeing me, it’d bother the fuck out of me.”

“But not if it were a woman?”

“No. I don’t know. Shit.” His bloodshot green eyes pleaded with me. “Would it make a difference to you if Jauregui were banging another man? Or just another woman?”

The door opened and Lauren walked in. I held her gaze when I said, “If Lauren’s dick touched anything but her hand or me, we’d be over.”

Her brows rose. “Well, then.”

I smiled sweetly and winked. “Hi, ace.”

“Angel.” She looked at Cary. “How are you feeling this morning?”

Cary’s lips twisted wryly. “Like I got hit by a bus . . . or a bat.”

“We’re working on getting you set up at home. It looks like we can make that happen by Wednesday.”

“Big tits, please,” Cary said. “Or bulging muscles. Either will do.”

Lauren looked at me.

I grinned. “The private nurse.”

“Ah.”

“If it’s a woman,” Cary went on, “can you get her to wear one of those white nurse dresses with the zipper down the front.”

“I can only imagine the media frenzy over that sexual-harassment lawsuit,” Lauren said dryly. “How about a collection of naughty-nurse porn instead?”

“Dude.” Cary smiled wide and looked, for a moment, like his old self. “You’re the man.”

Lauren looked at me. “Camila.”

I stood and bent over to kiss Cary on the cheek. “I’ll be right back.”

We stepped out of the room and I saw my mother in conversation with the doctor, who looked dazzled by her.

“I talked to Garrity this morning,” Lauren said, referring to Mark, my boss. “So don’t worry about that.”

I hadn’t been, because she said she’d handle it. “Thank you. I’ll need to go in tomorrow. I’m going to see if I can get hold of Trey, Cary’s boyfriend. Maybe he can stop in while I’m at work.”

“Let me know if you need any help with that.” Lauren glanced at her watch. “You’ll want to stay here again tonight?”

“Yes, if that’s possible. Until Cary comes home.”

She took my face in her hands and pressed her lips to mine. “All right. I have a lot of work to catch up on. Charge your cell so I can reach you.”

I heard a faint buzzing. Lauren backed away and reached into an inner jacket pocket to withdraw her phone. She read the screen, then said, “I have to get this. I’ll talk to you later.”

Then she was gone, striding down the hallway as quickly as she’d arrived.

“She’s going to marry you,” my mother said, coming up to stand beside me. “You know that, don’t you?”

I didn’t, no. I still felt a little flare of gratitude every morning when I woke up and realized that we were still together. “What makes you say that?”

My mother looked at me with her baby blue eyes. It was one of the rare physical traits we didn’t share. “She’s completely taken you over and assumed control of everything.”

“That’s just her nature.”

“That’s the nature of all powerful women,” she said, reaching up to fuss with my no-nonsense ponytail. “And she’ll indulge you, because she’s making an investment in you. You’re an asset to her. You’re beautiful, well bred and well connected, and independently wealthy. You’re also in love with her and she can’t take her eyes off you. I bet she can’t keep her hands off you, either.”

“Mother, please.” I was so not in the mood for one of her lectures on the fine points of catching and marrying a rich man.

“Camila Cabello,” she scolded, facing me directly. “I don’t care if you listen to me because I’m your mother and you have to—or because you love her and don’t want to lose her, but you will listen.”

“Like I have a choice,” I muttered.

“You’re an asset now,” she repeated. “See that your life choices don’t make you a liability.”

“Are you talking about Cary?” Anger sharpened my voice.

“I’m talking about the bruise on Lauren’s jaw! Tell me that has nothing to do with you.”

I flushed.

She tsked. “I knew it. Yes, she’s your lover and you see an intimate side to her that few see, but don’t ever forget that she’s also Lauren Jauregui. You’ve got everything you need to be the perfect wife for a person of her stature, but you’re still replaceable, Camila. What she’s built is not. You jeopardize her empire and she’ll leave you.”

My jaw tightened. “Are you done?”

She ran her fingertips over my brows, her gaze shrewd and assessing. I knew she was giving me a mini-makeover in her mind, thinking of ways to improve what she’d given me from birth. “You think I’m a coldhearted gold digger, but my concern is maternal, believe it or not. I want very desperately for you to be with a person who has the money and wherewithal to guard you with everything they have, so I’ll know you’re safe. And I want you to be with a person you love.”

“I’ve found her.”

“And I can’t tell you how thrilled I am. I’m thrilled she’s young and still open to taking risks, so she’s more forgiving and understanding of your . . . quirks. And she knows,” she whispered, her gaze softening and growing liquid. “Just be careful. That’s all I’m trying to say. Don’t give her any reason to turn away from you.”

“If she did, that wouldn’t be love.”

Her lips curved wryly and she pressed a kiss to my forehead. “Come now. You’re my daughter. You can’t be that naïve.”

“Camila!”

I turned at the sound of my name and felt a rush of relief to see Trey hurrying toward me. He was of average height and nicely muscular, with unruly blond hair, hazel eyes, and a slight angle to his nose that told me it’d been broken at some point. He was dressed in faded, frayed jeans and a T-shirt, and I was struck by the fact that he wasn’t Cary’s usual flashy type. For once, it seemed, the attraction had been more than skin deep.

“I just found out,” he said when he reached me. “Detectives came by my work this morning and questioned me. I can’t believe this happened Friday night and I’m only just finding out about it.”

I couldn’t hold his slightly accusatory tone against him. “I just found out early this morning myself. I was out of town.”

After a quick introduction between my mother and Trey, she excused herself to go sit with Cary, leaving me to elaborate on the information Trey had gleaned from the detectives.

Trey shoved his hands through his hair, making it look even messier. “This wouldn’t have happened if I’d taken him with me when I left.”

“You can’t blame yourself for this.”

“Who else do I blame for the fact that he’s screwing around with another guy’s girl?” He gripped the back of his neck. “I’m the one who’s not enough for him. He’s got the drive of a hormonal teenager and I’m working or in school all the damn time.”

Ugh. Total TMI. It was a struggle not to wince. But I understood that Trey likely didn’t have anyone else he felt comfortable discussing Cary with.

“He’s bisexual, Trey,” I said softly, reaching out to run a comforting hand down his biceps. “That doesn’t mean you’re lacking.”

“I don’t know how to live with this.”

“Would you consider counseling? With both of you, I mean.”

He looked at me with haunted eyes for a long minute; then his shoulders slumped. “I don’t know. I think I have to decide if I can live with him cheating. Could you do it, Camila? Could you sit at home waiting for your lover, knowing they were sticking it somewhere else?”

“No.” An icy shiver coursed through me at the mere words. “No, I couldn’t.”

“And I don’t even know if Cary would agree to counseling. He keeps pushing me away. He wants me, and then he doesn’t. He’s committed, and then he isn’t. I want in, Camila, like he’s let you in, but he keeps shutting me out.”

“It took me a long time to break through to him. He tried pushing me away with sex, always coming on to me, taunting me. I think you made the right decision keeping it platonic on Friday. Cary puts his value on his looks and sex appeal. You need to show him that it’s not just his body you want.”

Trey sighed and crossed his arms. “Is that how you two got close? Because you wouldn’t sleep with him?”

“Partly. Mostly it’s because I’m a mess. It’s not as obvious now as it was when we met, but he knows I’m not perfect.”

“Neither am I! Who is?”

“He believes you’re better than he is, that you deserve better.” I grinned. “Me . . . well, I bet part of him thinks I deserve him. That we deserve each other.”

“Crazy fucker,” he muttered.

“He is that,” I agreed. “That’s why we love him, isn’t it? Do you want to go in and see him? Or do you want to go home and think about it?”

“No, I want to see him.” Trey’s shoulders rolled back and his chin lifted. “I don’t care what put him here. I want to be with him while he’s going through this.”

“I’m glad to hear that.” I linked my arm with his and led him to Cary’s room.

We entered to the sound of my mother’s trilling, girlish laughter. She sat on the edge of the bed, with Cary smiling adoringly at her. She was as much a mother to him as she was to me, and he loved her so much for that. His own mother had hated him, abused him, and allowed others to abuse him.

He looked over and saw us, and the emotions that swept across his face in that moment caused a tightness in my chest. I heard Trey’s breath catch as he got his first sight of Cary’s condition. I kicked myself for not telling him in advance not to make the mistake of getting weepy like I had.

Trey cleared his throat. “Drama queen,” he said with gruff affection. “If you wanted flowers, you should’ve just asked for them. This is extreme.”

“And ineffective, apparently,” Cary rejoined hoarsely, clearly trying to pull himself together. “I don’t see any flowers.”

“I see a ton.” Trey’s gaze did a brief slide across the room, then went back to Cary. “Just wanted to see what I was up against, so I could beat out my competition.”

There was no way to miss the double meaning in that statement.

My mom rose from the bed. She leaned over and kissed Cary’s cheek. “I’ll take Camila out to breakfast. We’ll see you in about an hour or so.”

“Gimme a sec,” I said, passing the bed quickly, “and I’ll get out of your hair, guys.”

I grabbed my phone and charger out of my bag and plugged it into an outlet by the window.

As soon as the screen flickered to life, I sent a quick group text message to Shawna and my dad, saying simply: I’ll call later. Then I made sure my phone was silenced and left it on the window ledge.

“Ready?” my mom asked.

“As I’ll ever be.”

[brokenmusicboxwolfe]

Gotta vent. Sorry.

Life is so….

I woke up after three hours sleep. I was too worried about things to go right back to sleep, and music wasn’t distracting me enough. I open Tumblr.

The third post I see is one if those damned “helpful” OMG warning signs you have a deadly disease and should rush to a doctor posts. I have an extreme medical “professional” phobia from serious traumas at their hands, no health insurance, no money at all, no local doctors in my rural area (no hospital in the damn county even), no one I can trust to help me……I mean, I haven’t been to a doctor in longer than some of you have been alive, and that was a horrible experience I do NOT want to repeat. Yeah, these helpful post send me into a freaked out spiral of fear.

An e-mail comes in. My reloadable debit card has been declined. New panic! I’d ordered a book, a gift in a way. I’d promised to read Mom this book over the phone as a birthday gift next month, and I’d found it cheap. I can’t afford books for me anymore, but this is for Mom, so I can’t just cancel it.

Frantic I scramble to figure out where the money went. I’m horrified to find out it is all looking legit.

I go to the bank website and move $100 over so I can pay for the book and beginning of the month stuff like my phone.

I see the numbers and my chest hurts, like a fist around my heart.

Today I have to do the shopping because I’m half way through my last bags of animal feed. I start doing the math.

After the animals I’ll have $100 for all my groceries, gas for the car, kerosene for the hot water heater, bandages for my ankle, batteries for the lanterns where I don’t have electricity, mouse poison for where I found the damn rodents had gotten into my storage container of clothes, and everything else. Too much else. I’d skipped everything I could last time, so I am out of everything from trashbags to toilet paper.

$100 and not a penny more for two weeks.

And OMG, that includes Halloween! I need a pumpkin and candy to give out!

Just $100.

I cried.

I get mad at myself for crying. I already got yelled at by someone disgusted and angered by my crying a couple days ago.** I HATE when I can’t keep from crying, even alone.

I felt so much…I dunno, everything. I needed to lash out. A sensible person would break something, but breaking something is stupid when you can’t afford to replace anything. I sure as hell don’t ever want to hurt anyone. So what did I do? Slapped myself in the face as hard as I could.

And geez, it was SUCH a relief! That tells you something. Physical pain is much, much easier than emotional. I’ve said that since I was little.

Sometimes I really miss Pop. I mean, I always miss Pop, but it was so nice to have someone that cared. Mom loves me, but she was never the cuddly one and not great at noticing emotions. She could be impatient with crying, once she finally noticed. Pop though… I got all upset and cried he’d pat my back or head and say “Poor Teffy Weffy” I miss feeling comforted. Loved.

Anyway, so I worried and tossed and turned and cried and worried some more and….

I’ve had three hours sleep. The sun is up. My ankle is already hurting. I have to go do the shopping without enough money, and not feeling up to it.

Damn it, I want to get to have a breakdown and not get out of bed! Just one day in my life I don’t want to get up!!! Or how about have a lazy day and do nothing? A guilt free nap, at least?

I am so fucking sick of making myself go through the motions of being alive, of watching it all drain away between my fingers while trying to laugh about it. Get up, take care of the animals, fix my meals, do my chores, repair endless things, research the day’s new problems….

Busy. Busy. From the moment I get up until the wee hours if the morning when I finally crash, stay busy. No time to think or dream. There is just too much to do!

Work on so many things I can never quite fix but keep trying, always trying, trying, trying, trying…

And failing.

I’m so tired of life.

** It was an awful incident, on a very bad day when I was already sick and in pain. I’d told by my brother they were sending the jelly I’d sent to Mom back, unopened, and no one of the rest of then would eat it.

I apologized to Mom for sending jelly since I didn’t know she didn’t eat the stuff, and she said she actually liked jelly. My brother started roaring at her, shouting at her to not say that, that she was a liar, that she never ate jelly, none of them do, don’t ever contradict him… (BTW, when I was there she ate jelly AND they had opened jelly in their fridge, so saying none of them ate jelly baffled me)

Mom was being yelled at because of me. I begged her to stay quiet to not provoke him, and I could hear his shouting…

I don’t get him. He’s always so… Not like the rest of us in my immediate family. Angry, aggressive, hostile, mean even.

I started sobbing. Guilt at causing Mom trouble. Helplessness to do anything to make things better. Frustration. Despair at how we are bound up, in so many ways at his mercy, and he is not a merciful soul.

Usually I am so good at this. I never cry when I’m on the phone with Mom. I try not to let anyone see me cry, but on the phone with Mom it’s especially important. I don’t want to upset her. She can’t help me, so I have to hide my struggles a bit.

But it’s also because of him. It makes him angry.

He yanked the phone from Mom to say some thing and he heard me crying. Disgust. Rage. He finds tears to be the way the weak manipulate people, a pathetic, scummy way of fighting, an attack on him. He snarled and ended by hanging up in me.

I think the call didn’t last three minutes.

I’d been on the verge of a meltdown for days as life was getting worse and worse, and I was dealing with feeling rotten on top of it. Now I actually wailed. Good thing I was in the woods, though the poor critters must have been terrified by the banshee.

[traumasurvivorshelpingsurvivors]

TW Emotional Abuse? Familial problems, general trauma, addiction, drugging, sa/hospitalization, very depressing

Hello I think I’m asking for advice mainly on how to escape my situation or even just support/resources. I currently live with my older sister who hasn’t ever really been close to me but instead has been more of a negative person in my life. I haven’t been able to stop crying rethinking the situation I’m in since it feels emotionally paralyzing.

My parents sort of forced her to take care of me at a young age so as a result she naturally hates me and is stuck with me as I am with her. After a long bout of traumas/fights etc from leaving our abusive household together we sort of were bonding since we understood each others pain and we kind of had to, our checks together were the only things stopping us from being homeless but still are which is why I’m really stressed out.

After we moved in together to our first apartment however my older brother had also been having issues at our parents so I let him come over whenever he felt like. He was doing meth and didn’t let me know but instead lied and said he was clean, eventually meth got into my system after he stayed for 2 days possibly when he let me try a cigarette for the first time or I’m not sure if he laced my weed but I ended up in the hospital for two weeks unaware of instead thinking I had finally broke my brain until I saw my hospital discharge papers. I was in psychosis for almost 2 years on and off going back into hospitals mainly because I became so suicidal I couldn’t take it anymore, I hardly remember the past 3 years of my life either because I didn’t create memories I loved or it was just so stressful my mind blocked it out.

What really halted my recovery was my sister letting my brother come back around after I came out of the hospital because she felt bad for him. She’d put up paintings he’d make while on meth on the kitchen wall and when I’d cry and ask her to take them down she’d basically make me feel guilty for feeling the way I did. This only made me worse and it’s taken 3 years for me to get back to a place mentally where I feel safe but the last time she let him over here was still a month ago, I just finally couldn’t take it anymore and told him to leave and not come back. She let him back in the next morning though but kicked him out when he inconvenienced her instead.

Earlier this year I tried going to a program called Job Corps because it was a free ticket out of the state but straight to a gov facility, at least they’d give me training for a trade certification and some needed skills, mainly a new environment. However my sister didn’t like the idea when I mentioned moving out or leaving for the year so now I’m just washing dishes for 14 an hour instead of studying like I wanted and need to. I try not to throw the term abuse around but it just feels emotionally damaging how i haveto live in her shadow all the time.

I’m scared of moving out not because of having to support myself but her being left with a financial mess, she also had told me that leaving would make things harder for her and just be “running away”. I’m in my early 20s and she’s 10 years older yet my job is what’s keeping us from being homeless I mention it just cause it’s weird she went to vacation a few days ago even though we’re broke and I give her most of my money when I get l paid, and even then she’ll get mad if I buy something she thinks I shouldn’t have.

I just constantly feel alone like I’ve never heard of someone being in this sort of situation so I’ve never heard of anyone being able to leave it behind either, I guess I’m mainly asking for hope after letting this all out I don’t really have any left but I’m trying, I appreciate it.

Hi anon,

I'm so sorry about what you've been through. Please know that you're not alone in experiencing this, and I have answered a few other asks from people in similar situations as well.

It's important to remember that while your sister may have some resentment over having to take care of you growing up, that doesn't explain or justify becoming abusive to you. It sounds like you have a complicated dynamic between your siblings. It seems that your sister feels pity for your brother and doesn't understand why he makes you uncomfortable, especially considering your hospital visit and suicidal thoughts.

It's not up to your sister to determine where you will work - you are your own self. It sounds like she is emotionally abusive and doesn't respect your autonomy, especially if it means moving out. It also sounds like she may be financially abusive as well considering that you give her most of your money when you get paid, and controls how you spend your money. Part of why your sister may be discouraging you from leaving is because it would mean that she can no longer take advantage of you.

Leaving this kind of situation is not simple or easy, but there are a few suggestions. While this resource is in reference to domestic violence cases, these tips on leaving an abusive situation can still apply. Here is a masterlist of international crisis lines you can contact, which may be able to help you get in touch with someone who can assist you in this process.

If anyone has any comments or suggestions, feel free to add on. Otherwise, I hope I could help, and please let us know if you need anything.

-Bun

[heyidkyay]

I guess I’ll take this pain, instead of your name |

Part Twenty-Five

A/n: Hellooo! 25 is here!! Thank you for all of the incredible feedback on the last two updates! It honestly made my entire weeekkk, you're all so lovely it hurts. But, this part will be a little bit different, it starts off with a monologue of sorts from our very own G:) so I hope you enjoy that and then it just continues on from where we ended Part 23! :D

Summary: In life, things changed. The boys you'd once grown up with were men now, and famous ones at that. The type that toured the world and had millions of adoring fans.

The five of you shared a shit ton of history. But you also shared a lot of mixed emotions for one of them in particular, a certain drummer.

Warnings: Nothing much, angst, but when is there not with these two? and swearing as per usual:)

Masterlist

—GEORGE’S POV—

I made a promise. A very long time ago. 

On a street corner under dazzling lights.

Then again in a tiny little hospital bathroom.

Once more at a train station so hectic I could barely even hear myself think.

And I kept on making that same promise. Like a prayer on a loop forever inside my head.

At gigs; from across the top of our kitchen counter; on the tour bus; and during flights over seas. A prayer. A promise. So simple. Innocent, really. Always on the tip of my tongue. Scratched into the walls of my throat, there but never heard. 

An endless loop. A cycle.

I never once thought that I’d break it.

That I’d be the one to break her. Not after everything.

But I was.

I made a promise that I couldn’t keep and it didn’t just break her, it broke me.

…

I felt strange whenever I was with her. It started out as a nervousness, this tiny fizzing ball of it sat at the very top of my stomach. She’d waltzed into the music room I’d taken to hiding in most days and rendered my mind empty. She’d prattled away about this and that, and I’d quickly learnt that that was her own way of hiding. She was just simply better at it. 

It was so long ago now and yet, her smile hasn’t changed and neither have her soulful eyes.

I’d wandered around after her for a short while as kids. The nervousness that I’d felt had shifted into curiosity. The boys had been welcoming enough, but her. She was just something other. And she didn’t even know it. Didn’t see the lingering eyes that trailed after her. The sappy smiles and laughs she garnered. 

I’d bugged her at first, I knew that. This kid that never had much to say. I’d put her on edge, made her wary of the secrets she’d held too close to her chest. Because like calls to like. 

She was hard to figure out in the beginning, sometimes even after it, so strong and effortless in the way she went about things, in how she lied. But we were one in the same. And when she finally let me in, it was like everything clicked. And what she’d had yet to realise was that she’d disarmed me without even trying to. I’d have done anything she asked. 

There was this one night, the first night I call it, where she’d been battered to bits sat outside on a park bench not too far off my road. I’d spotted her from a mile off. Because of course I had, she was the lighthouse that called to my dull and aching sea. And I hadn’t known what to make of it at first, just a kid myself, but then I’d told her why I’d been out walking so late and in turn she’d dropped the facade and gifted me one of her truths.

I found out she preferred tea to coffee that same night, and that she hated hot-chocolate.

As the weeks bled into months she let me have a few more.

That summer in London had been one of the best ones of my life. Even now I think back to it and grin, wishing I could step back into it, smile at her one last time before I lost her again.

She’d sung to me one night during that trip, late late into the early hours of the morning. She’d been curled up against me, both our eyes heavy with sleep. But she’d sung, sweet as anything I’d ever heard into the curve of my chest. And I’d held my breath the whole while and just listened.

My Birdie, my little songbird.

By the end of the time we’d spent holed up in that house with her Nana, Aunt and Big Cyril too, she’d gifted me a lighter. The same one she carried with her every place she went. She had spent the morning gardening with her nan, the bullmastiff sprawled lazily on the grass beside them, and then she’d come back in to find me and let it drop into my hand. 

It was the one thing I treasured most, I took it everywhere. Even to this day. 

I can remember the one time I thought I’d lost it- this is years beyond the days spent in Bethnal Green, on the first proper tour we’d landed- she hadn’t been with me and it’d been all I’d had of her. 

I’d fucking lost it. Completely. Don’t think the guys had ever seen me so worked up. I’d torn apart every inch of that bus as well as our dressing room too trying to find it, only for Matty to come stumbling up the steps with it in his hand a while later, joint dangling from his lips. His eyes had never been stretched so wide, the way I’d gone off on him had not just surprised everyone else, but me too. And I’d realised later on, in the hours after the show had ended with me curled up in my tiny bunk, that it hadn’t just been about the lighter. I was stuck, half-way to losing my mind without her near. It’d felt like I’d left half of me back home.

And when things had ended between us…

When things had ended between us, I’d lost myself completely.

So torn up about things I’d been too scared to face. 

I’d left. I’d been the one to give up. To give up on one of the few good things life had ever given me.

And I’d sat staring at the clock trying to pass time for weeks after.

—

I love you.

Love’s a funny, fickle thing. Isn’t it?

It can build you up but just as easily tear you down again.

It stains, worse than red wine on cheap carpet or blood on a white tee.

It hollows you out, makes itself a hole right there in your heart. A hole which starts out so tiny, it’s barely even noticeable. Until it’s gone and you’re left with a throbbing empty wound in your chest.

I remember how much my mum loved my dad.

When I was little, like really little, they used to sing to one another. Dance about in our kitchen and laugh over cups of steaming tea. And when dad got ill that love only brightened, I saw it. In the small things she did. How’d she’d cook his favourite meal most days so that he could remember and read him the morning newspaper when he was feeling too tired to keep his eyes open. She loved him, I knew that. And she’d loved me once too. 

After he was gone I spent a lot of time down south. At Nana’s and Aunt Delany’s. Mum didn’t have much family, her parents both having passed long before I was even born, and her being an only child. So I spent time in London. A lot of time. Whilst she’d stayed home, pretending.

I’d only been young, nine or so. I missed him like you would a limb. I missed her too. I lost them both the day that he died. And I told Nana so, she’d just said that grief took time, and Aunt Del claimed that I reminded mum too much of my dad. My guilt frayed that day, unraveled itself inside me. And so I stayed in London long after the funeral until mum finally came and got me, she took me back home again. Only home wasn’t there anymore. And everything in that house reminded me of him.

I think my mum forgot how to love after. Like all of it left her when he did.

And I, well I was just a painful reminder of it. One she couldn’t bare to see. 

So I took the brunt of her emotions. A lot of them new. Just like all of the people she let in and out of the house. I learned to keep quiet, shut my mouth after the first few. Learned to cover up, to brave a smile. I became a liar. A skilled one too. But I still loved. I loved her because she was my mother. I loved her because I didn’t know what else I could do. But with her love, came blame, came guilt, came fault. And her love, once red, was now only blue. Hues of it, black and purple on tender skin. Cruel words dotted into sentences and distinctive falls of feet.

Love. 

It came to me in other ways as I grew older though. 

In friendships, like the one I shared with Vicky. And in people like Ross and Adam who bothered me greatly in ways that only brothers could. With Matty and all his eccentricity. Who’s love shined bright and came in bursts of all sorts of colours. His love kept me on my toes and breathless, it came with a family, how his sort of became mine. 

And then with George, who had shown me a whole new meaning to the word. Who gave me another place to live and to grow, a home who was just a person. He warmed me, made me feel safe. His love let me wander, and it let me feel free. His love came in gentle touches and kisses so deep. When I was around his love I wanted to forget my own name. And when he left me, I don’t know how I really stayed steady. The whole world tilted on its head and shook the ground beneath me. He left and I’d never felt that much pain. Everything around me grew silent, life dulled. That love I felt dimmed.

He looked up at me now, in a room so far away from the one we’d once shared. His very presence made me weak, made that grief I always felt so much more profound. He loves me. But I don’t know if I believe him. I love him. But I’m also a liar. That I knew. 

He’d given me the decision this time around. Because he’d been selfish the last, when he’d left with not even a warning. But it felt selfish now too, for him to leave it all up to me. 

Up to me… 

I love you.

His words, not mine.

I love you.

Said so quietly.

He’d left me with a choice. One he had to know would only rip me in two again.

And so I kissed him. It was almost a parallel to our first, over wrinkled bedsheets and in a house neither of us owned. It took me back. His hand was stilled my hair, his nose brushed against my own and the skin of my cheek. My chest ached with it. Lungs filled with lost air, dwindling.

I was tired of being brave, I thought. My whole life I’d been fighting. With him he made it feel so easy, but I was scared. Scared that letting him back in meant giving up. 

What was braver, to stay or to go?

I pulled away, kept my eyes closed as we caught our breath in the heady sun-warmed villa, foreheads pressed together.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered.

“I know.”

“I love you.”

I paused. That hole in me ached again.

“I know.”

Then I asked him to leave.

—

The air felt different here. So many miles away from the little town I’d grown up in. 

The skies were bluer, clearer here. The sun shone brighter, warmer. Walking felt easier.

I let myself get lost in the old town, I gazed over the shore and the sand, murmured quietly to owners of quaint market stalls in the main square. I let my feet lead me this way and that. Under a aging clocktower as it gonged and behind a row of multi-coloured houses. I didn’t think. Wouldn’t let myself. I counted as high as I could. Reminded myself of the colours of the rainbow. Kept my gaze trained on every sound I heard, children laughing, mopeds speeding past, talks over early lunches. 

I didn’t know why I’d ended up here. Maybe it was because I needed to know. Know if I could love without him. If I could just try. I went and sat in the waiting room, cardigan clenched in shaking hands, eyes stuck on it.

I felt the bench beside me dip under his weight a little while later and I knew it was him without even having to look. He had this aura about him, this grace. He didn’t speak, didn’t utter a word, simply sat and waited with me, or for me rather. I couldn’t be too sure. I didn’t think I’d ever felt this confused. 

“How’d you know I was here?” I asked him after a prolonged pause. I hadn’t said a word to anyone after I’d arrived, just left it up to chance as I took a seat here in the waiting room to this massive hospital. 

I hadn’t seen much of it the first time around. 

Alvaro shifted next to me slightly, I could see the trim of his crisp white coat out of the corner of my eye. “My horoscope told me to be on the look out for an unexpected traveller.” He teased and I cracked a small smile down at my hands, before I glanced up and over to him. His eyes searched mine for a long second, before he then told me the truth. “I saw you here just as I was going on break.”

I nodded, guilt creeping its way in again. “I didn’t mean to keep you.”

He waved me off, shaking his head with a kind smile. “You could never. I mean, I could have just hidden, no? If I didn’t want to see you.”

I blew a small laugh out of my nose, “I suppose.”

He grinned over at me, pleased to see me smile it seemed. “I was hoping I would see you again.”

My eyes drifted back and forth between his own, “Oh?”

He hummed a quiet confirmation, grinning at a toddler that stormed on by, “You left an impression.”

I had to chuckle at that. “I’ve heard that a few too many times before.”

He smiled. 

We shared a comfortable silence then, letting the rush of the hospital fill the empty space between us. I fiddled with the wool of my cardigan.

“You know,” I started out quietly, thinking the words over before I let my tongue taste them, “When we first met, I thought you wanted to steal that chair.”

Alvaro’s expression turned to one of bemusement and I cracked another unavoidable smile.

“Not steal, steal. Just, the restaurant was busy, I thought you might’ve wanted the chair for another table. You know?”

He chuckled and dipped his head in an agreeable nod, glancing up at me with a coy smile. 

“But instead you just sat down.” I giggled, the absurdity of it still amused me even now. “You just sat down and you sort of… made me believe in people again. Is that weird?”

Alvaro looked back at me, eyes focused, sharp now, but still warm. He didn’t laugh me off or make me feel stupid, instead he took a small breath and shifted in his seat to better face me. “No. I don’t think it’s weird. It’s like how I didn’t know that me sitting down with you would lead to us talking for as long as we did. About the books we shared and the love of all things food.” He gifted me an affectionate smile. “Sometimes the universe, it just gives us what we need in the moment we need it most.”

“And did you need it?” I couldn’t stop myself from asking, and I almost regretted it when I watched the way his expression turned graver, how he begun to toy with his thumbs. 

“It was my first day back.” I frowned at his vague reply, confused for a second, but he soon continued on, “I, I lost my mother, a few weeks before we first met, and I took some time off to…”

“Grieve.”

He nodded at me, smile small but there. “Yes. Sitting with you in that little bistro, it was the first time I spoke about her without breaking down. It felt like she was still there, you know? But not waiting for me to come home anymore, instead she was just all around.”

I did know. I knew that feeling very well. 

“That day, I was supposed to be on a twelve hour shift. I was, how do you say? Not looking forward to it.” We shared a mirthful smile. “Then I saw you and, I don’t know, you captivated me.”

I glanced away, almost embarrassed. Bashful. That was not something I’d heard before. 

Alvaro chuckled, but not unkindly. “You were alone, like me. I think I saw a likeness there. We were of the same.”

My first thought was that I couldn’t picture him sad. That it felt strange to even imagine. And I couldn’t even comprehend that this person sat beside me, so full of life, so open, could hurt the same. How he stayed so positive through it all. 

“If it had been anyone else, I don’t think I could have done it.”

“What, sat down?” I questioned, looking back at him now. He nodded his head.

“I just didn’t think about it. One second I was on the street looking in, and then…” he shrugged.

I let that sink in.

A truth for a truth? Was that the way of the world, or was that just ours? George and I’s. Or, maybe just mine now.

“Matty- you remember him? Crazy curls, big grin?” I said and Alvaro nodded again, laughing quietly whilst I smiled. “Well, he was the one to surprise me with this trip. I’d been… I’d been going through a lot. This past year, it’s been hard. Harder than I expected, to be honest. I sort of felt like I’d lost everything and had been forced to start over again.”

Alvaro blinked, casting his eyes down to the tiled floor then back up at me again, as though he was contemplating his words. “This has something to do with your other friend? The one who was here.”

It wasn’t really a question though. It was something he was certain of, but unsure on whether to bring up. I swallowed and dipped my chin in reply.

“He- We were together for a long time.” I revealed, voice soft, almost getting swept up in the hustle and bustle of the crowd which surrounded us. “We ended- well, really he, ended things rather abruptly. I, I just didn’t see it coming, you know? One second everything was fine, I was happy. I thought he was too. And then. Then he was gone and I was on my own again.”

I had to take a deep breath, calm the emotional storm welling inside of my chest. It still felt like it’d happened only yesterday. 

“I’d never really pictured life without him. From the minute we met there was just something about him. He had my heart before he ever even asked for it.” I went on, gaze locked on the cardigan I continued to cling onto like a lifeline. “I was on my own before. I had people. Friends. But never someone like him. I knew everything about him, and him me. Everyone thought we were it. The type that would hold out. But then I was stuck, he’d dropped me and I was just stuck wondering what I’d done wrong. He broke my heart, he broke me. And everything that followed…” I chuckled hollowly, defeated, “My life just fell apart after. I lost our flat, my job. The friends we shared. He was my entire world. And then he was gone.”

Alvaro’s hand reached out to carefully take mine, he unfisted it from the tight hold I had on my cardigan. I was crying then I realised, but not really. Muted tears that rolled down the bones of my cheeks. His palm fell onto the back of my hand and his fingers linked between mine effortlessly. My eyes slipped closed.

I heard him inhale beside me before he finally spoke again, quieter than I’d ever heard him before.

“When he arrived here, after you were admitted, I was sat in the ward. I didn’t know who he was or that he was here for you- God, I didn’t even know you were here.” He chuckled lowly, thinking back to it, “But he was panicked. The nurses were surprised, and I was too. But you often see people so full of fear in hospitals. The not knowing is hard, for everyone. I think he had a bag slung over his shoulder and he looked tired, but mostly just scared. I only remember because I was the one who spoke to him, whilst one of the on-call nurses tried to find any information to give him. He didn’t say a single word, but he looked… he looked haunted. Like a man who had a gun to his head. And it worried even me- this man, not much younger than myself, stood there in front of me just begging to be told something good. Silently praying for it. As though he would drop down dead there otherwise.”

I kept my eyes closed, lips pinched to keep from outright sobbing at his words. 

“I think the nurse said something because I remember looking over to her, and he must have heard first or seen something I hadn’t because he was gone in the next second. I tried to go after him but,” He stilled and then shrugged a single shoulder, “I had patients to look after, staff waiting for scans and test results. I only saw him again that same morning you were released. He wouldn’t look me in the eye, but I knew it then. That you were also the same, both so stubborn. You were upset with him and I didn’t know why, but you kept on stealing glances. I remember seeing you, too scared to look away and not find him still there, whilst acting as though you didn’t care whether he stayed or he left.”

A muffled, broken sob spurted from me at that and he cradled an arm around me to pull me in closer. I cried into his shoulder, not sparing a second thought to those around us.

“Sometimes the people we love they hurt us. Sometimes they leave. But often times they hurt too. So much that they can’t help the pain that spills out of them and onto us. I think,” Alvaro paused and I felt him tighten his hold on my hand a fraction, “I think you need to talk to him, corazón. Maybe then you’ll find some relief. Some happiness.”

I gulped down whatever lump had risen with my tears and pressed my lips tightly together before finally pulling away. I must’ve looked an absolute state and I heard how hoarse my voice sounded when I went to apologise for it, “I, I’m so sorry, Alvaro. I don’t know what came over me, why I even turned up here.” I sniffed, feeling so silly, but he merely smiled in turn, his hand still in mine.

“There’s no need for sorry’s, I’m glad that you came.” He assured me and I chuckled self-depreciatingly.

“What, even after I cried all over your shoulder?”

He laughed sweetly, “Even after you cried all over my shoulder.”

I smiled and wiped the tears from under my eyes, still feeling so emotional. “I am sorry though, for just turning up and disrupting your day.”

Alvaro shook his head, “It was a highlight, I promise!” 

I couldn’t help but blow out a soft chuckle as we both stood. He squeezed my hand once more before he dropped it and I stepped froward to wrap him up in a hug, beyond thankful for his presence. For the advice he’d given me.

“Make sure you stop in again before you leave, okay? Your friends too.” He murmured over my head and I smiled up at him and agreed. 

“Promise.”

“Good, good. And this man of yours, make sure you tell him everything, si?” Alvaro added, stepping away again. “Even if it hurts, because to hurt means to grieve. It’ll help.”

My head tilted to one side as my smile broadened. “How did you become so wise? Is it a doctor thing?” I was teasing but only just, he merely had a way with words it seemed.

“My abuelita.” He replied with a sheen to his eyes, smiling all the while. “There was nothing she could not fix.”

I stared up at him, cardigan now falling limp beside me. “And what would she say to me? To fix this.”

With a chuckle Alvaro spoke, not even needing to think about it. “Tardé una hora en conocerte y solo un día en enamorarme. Pero me llevará toda una vida lograr olvidarte.” He smiled at me softly, “It was something she often said to my agüelo whenever they squabbled.”

It took me an hour to meet you and only a day to fall in love. But it will take me a lifetime to forget you.

It was beautiful.

And I told him so around a grateful smile. 

Part Twenty-six>

[shadowjax]

The Red Orchid

Heart Strings pt. 2

A03

{Previous}{Next}

Donna Beneviento x gender neutral reader/you

Series Summary: The head gardener has taken you under his wing and as you grew older you viewed him as a father figure. You and the young mistress grew close over time but due to mysterious events she shut herself out form the world. A childhood crush left inevitable yet impossible. Soon other servants and inhabitants of the manor began to disappear one by one. Eventually the head gardener left without a trace and yet you stayed, where would you even go if you ran? The night became more dangerous as the years went by, screams echoed through the night homes left untouched.

Warnings: none that I can think of.

*＊✿❀　❀✿＊*

“C’mon Donna, can we let them stay here with us? It’s been so long since we’ve had another guest.” Angie asked Lady Beneviento from across the rounded table.

“I wouldn’t want to intrude, my lady.” You assumed your lord as you waved your hands in front of you. “I wouldn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable with my presence.”

“I don’t mind, in fact I’d like for you to stay.” The Lord suggested and your heart has flown out the window.

You were caught off guard by her words. Not only did she not mind but she wanted you to stay. The sound of the wind howling outside snapped you back into reality. In the distance from where you were sitting at the table, you could see snow blowing outside the window.

“Looks like a storm is brewing.” The Lord spoke as she turned her head right to face the window.

“Where’s my thanks, I just saved you from walking in that?!” Angie commented as she dramatically pointed towards the mess outside. She was right, it would be a pain to trek in that weather. You did not have the layers to safely make your way home.

“Where did this snow come from, it was just dry and sunny outside not long ago?!” Changing weather had become a normal thing ever since people began to disappear, but weather changing this drastically so soon meant something terrible was happening.

The first time the weather had shifted from sunny to snowy, humanoid beasts from the woods had attacked various homes. They kidnapped people never to be seen again, anyone who tried to stop them would be torn to shreds. They’d be taken into the woods in the dead of night, some villagers turned them into a horror story for children since it happened so rarely.

The thought caused your muscles to tense and the two had noticed.

“Don’t worry, this house is safe and would be alright as long as you remain on the land.” The Lord assured you. “Let me show you your room.”

You stood up and immediately knelt down in front of her. “With all due respect I feel uncomfortable being considered a guest. You're a lord and I am mere mortal. At least allow me to be your personal servant if I am to live here. I may not have a lot of experience but I have some knowledge on the duties the other servants used to perform.”

You felt a struggle between right and wrong. You were a mere gardener and staying as a Lord’s guest felt wrong. It was all you had known and the change scared you, even if you two had gotten close as children. You were both adults now and the status quo had played a big part of your life.

“Ooooo you’re quite the charmer, you’re a keeper.” Angie had sort of ruined the moment and a wave of embarrassment hit you. Heat rose to your cheeks and made its way down your neck. You were sure they turned a noticeable shade of red.

“If you insist. The more I think, it will be easier to explain to the other lords without putting a target on your back. We’re not known for being hospitable.” She held out her hand and you placed your hand in hers. Her hand perfectly fits yours like puzzle pieces. You brought her soft and slim hand to your forehead and pledged your loyalty to her and her family name.

“I hereby swear my loyalty to you and the Beneviento name until the day I day. I will remain your faithful servant and promise to serve no one else.” After your heartfelt pledge you gently placed a kiss on her hand and rose to meet her eyes under her veil.

After clearing the table she showed you to your room. It was on the second floor, across from another room, next to a deer head on the wall, and the window was facing the front of the house. You can tell it hasn’t been used for a while since there were a few boxes in front of it. She insisted on this room because of that reason.

It had a fairly big window that let quite a bit of light in the room. There was a twin bed in the corner against 2 walls, no higher than your thigh. There was a night stand next to it, a desk beside the window, and a big armoire next to the door. She left you all ikr to get settled in and showed you where the washroom was. It took you a minute to realize you had no other clean clothes and Ange had brought you a butler’s suit and new underclothes. Luckily it was the right size considering it probably belonged to someone else originally. Angie also showed you how to use a shower because you have never used one before.

Running water was something you never had the luxury of. You were lucky if you even got to bathe one a week, you quickly became self conscious when you tried to remember when the last time you cleaned yourself was. You’d occasionally bathe in a nearby lake or steal a bucket of water from the neighbors. Wells were too loud and risky.

Before you got into the show you got a good look at yourself in the mirror. You were caught off guard by your appearance for a moment, it’s been quite a bit since you’ve seen yourself in the mirror. You ignored the dirt and washed it off to get a better view. When was the last time I saw myself?

Over the years you began to resemble your parents more and more. Somewhere deep inside, you were ashamed of it. Your physical appearance was a constant reminder of the people who never paid any mind to you, afraid to become like them one day. That fear is the main drive to your optimism and way to stay in touch with reality. Wishing for their affection from day one may not have led you to working for the Beneviento Family. You may have never met your Lord if not for their lack of affection and acknowledgment. Although it would have been nice to have actually had stable walls and an intact ceiling with electricity and running water.

The moment the warm water hit your face you felt a wave of relief. A level of comfort you had never known before. It gave you time to privately contemplate your emotions, ones you haven’t felt since your childhood. You couldn’t understand what these emotions were, they were so unfamiliar to you. You had no one to confide in to help you understand these emotions. Maybe there was one but he would remain a last resource.

After you were finished drying yourself off, you dressed yourself in the suit and washed your gardening outfit. You decided to keep the outfit in case you needed it again. Some of your tools were placed inside your jacket pocket since your pants didn’t have more than 4 basic pockets. You combed your hair as it fell nicely when it was wet. You barely recognized yourself in the mirror, you looked like a completely different person. On the bright side you 're ready to play the part, appearance wise at least.

“Wow, you clean up nice. Don’t they look nice Donna?” Angie inquired by the doorframe, perched in the Lord’s arms as you were looking at yourself in the mirror in the armoire. She found herself at a loss of words and you could feel her gaze piercing through you.

~~~~

You spent the rest of the day in her personal study, reading up about the duties you were to perform and what was expected of you. With her help of course after realizing your reading skills were at the bare minimum. You were familiar with most of the mannerisms and takes. All except for cooking, that was something you knew nothing about. Angie and your Lord were happy to show you, especially Angie who was looking forward to tormenting you.

In the main fawyer you noticed a portrait of your Lord on your way up to the steps. The painting had placed you in some sort of trance. Although it was clearly a portrait of your Lord it wasn’t able to catch her full beauty that radiated off her when she entered a room. Must be how she’d look without the scar. Yet you never noticed it as a kid and you wondered how she looked now.

The warm bed you laid in felt so different, it felt really nice especially having covers keeping you warm. The wind outside still howled but it was concealed by the walls of the house. A bed with thick sheets, warm running water, clean clothes, a full stomach, and sturdy walls were all things you could get used to. Your eyes grow heavy and you fall into slumber.