A crazy opportunity (ON HOLD)

Chapter 18

I wake up to voices talking, making me groan lightly. I try to shift slightly, only to realize that my body is on fire. At least that's what it feels like. I start to whimper, trying to hold in my cries when someone accidentally brushes against me.

"Shhh," a voice shushes me. "You're okay. Can you open those pretty eyes for me?"

I continue to whimper, slowly opening my eyes, only to shut them again because of the brightness.

"Dim the lights," the same voice says. I hear light footsteps, assuming someone got up to dim the lights.

"Ok, let's try again, shall we?" the voice asks me again. It sounds so familiar, but I can't make out who's speaking and that frustrates me so much.

My eyes flutter open, finding it easier to adjust to the barely lit room. I look around, noticing that I'm in Alon's room, and Alon was the one talking to me with Matt sitting next to him. How did I not recognize them?

They both look really worried. "Aqua," Matt breathes out, looking on the verge of tears.

That immediately puts me on 'caretaker' mode. "Hey! It's okay, I'm fine, see?" I say, trying to lift my hand to his, but immediately stop when pain shoots through my arm.

This makes him look even sadder, tears starting to escape his eyes until he's quietly crying. Alon leaves the room and comes back with a mug of something steaming.

He puts it down and helps me up into a sitting position slowly, propping me up with pillows. "Here, drink this," he says, handing me the mug of what looks like hot cocoa.

I quietly sip it for a few minutes, enjoying the warmth, before asking, "What happened?"

Alon looks at Matt. "Why don't you go to bed, buddy? She's okay now," he says gently.

Matt looks at me, to see me nodding in agreement. He slowly gets up, gives me a really light, gentle hug, and walks out the door, mumbling a goodnight.

I look back at Along once the door closes again. He sighs, "You scared me."

"Sorry," I say, feeling bad for worrying him.

He closes his eyes. "I got back from work, opening the door to see you unconscious at the entrance. Matt ran down when I opened the door. He didn't know what happened, he thought Blake was still home so he kinda freaked out seeing you unconscious."

I take a deep breath in, closing my eyes. "He blames himself, doesn't he?" I ask Alon.

"Yeah," he replies, running a hand through his hair.

"You do too," I tell him. He looks away. "Alon..."

"Don't," he cuts me off. "I wish I could do something about it. You always get hurt because of me."

"That's not true," I say, slowly reaching my hand out to him. "We're doing what's best for the kids. If you say anything to anyone else, we'll all be put in foster care. Besides, we're almost old enough. Don't worry about it."

"Have you seen yourself? Aqua, you have so many bruises. I'm surprised you didn't break anything, and you're telling me not to worry."

"I'll be fine, it'll heal. Just please don't beat yourself up about it," I tell him gently.

He abruptly stands up, "Come on, let's get you cleaned up."

It takes us a team effort to get me standing. Alon holds most of my weight, leading me to the bathroom.

I gasp at my reflection. Bruises are scattered across my face like a Rick Cheadle painting. I limp towards the mirror, wincing at the pain in my hip.

I look awful.

"I'm so sorry," Alon whispers behind me, tears welling up in his eyes. I've never seen him cry before. Not when everyone we knew left. Not when Blake started hurting us. Not when we had to work while balancing school and the kids.

And that tells me how bad he feels.

I slowly turn around. "Alon, you can't blame yourself for this. Weren't you the one who taught me that? You are not the one who created these bruises, so stop blaming yourself."

He goes to open his mouth, but I cut him off. "I'm serious! Stop moping around and help me out. There's a bag of lavender scented epsom salt in my bedroom; go get it and help run me a bath."

Once he's gone, I look at the mirror again. It wasn't always like this. When I first met Blake, he used to be nice. He'd smile, and laugh, and he would encourage me to do whatever I enjoyed.

But that was before his wife died. And now I'm almost always painted in bruises. I don't realize I'm crying until Alon comes up behind me and shushes me.

I fall apart in his embrace.

But I hate that I do.

Strong women don't cry for stupid things like pain or sadness. At least that's what Blake told me.

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A/N: Hello lovelies! That was such a sad chapter to write, I'm sorry!! But don't worry, she'll be happier soon!

Anyways, I'm entering the #instaxStillsToLife competition, so check out my short story, Tilted, if you're interested. It focuses a lot on the stereotypes of perfection and I really enjoyed writing it as a mental health advocate. Enjoy!

Please vote and comment. Have a wonderful day! Hugs and kisses.