Scarlett Rosalia, stuck in a dark place, unable to move away from the pain of her life. She continued living each day, forgetting how to fly.
Alexander Knightly, impossible and cold, hiding behind a mask of rude arrogance. He knew not of her suffer...
"I-I don't know what you're talking about." I said, instantly defensive. He frowned, clearly not buying it.
"You can't hide these injuries forever, Scarlett. He's going to figure it out eventually, and I can't help you unless you tell me exactly what's going on." He said, seeming to know more than I guessed in his short observation.
I was relieved to know that he didn't tell Mr.Knightly about everything. I suppose one person suspecting is easier to push off than more.
"Scarlett, we can protect you from whomever has been hurting you. You can't seriously tell me you're okay, when you're wasting away and bleeding out." He continued.
I shook my head.
"There's nothing you can do. He can't know, please, just help me through the problems you know. I can't tell you anything. Please," I begged out of desperation. His face fell somber as looked to the ground.
"If that's what you wish....but if you change your mind, give this a good look." He said, hesitantly. The doctor handed me an envelope before adjusting my medication and leaving the room, not once meeting my eye. I felt bad that things had to be this way, but it was for the best. I couldn't bring anyone into my mess, for it was bad enough with just me in it. How was I seriously supposed to tell him that had never known love before? How could I possible say that I'm used to the pain, that I've been dealing with this abuse my entire life? From father to 'boyfriend,' how was I even alive?
I stared at the envelope in my hands, rubbing its smooth surface before finally getting the courage to open it. It was a picture of a girl, young, malnourished. Bruises and cuts, scars and burns littered her body. Her back faced the camera, her spine stuck out to the point where I could see each vertebrae. She looked like a half-decomposed corpse.
She was me.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
——————————————
I finally got the okay to leave the hospital, about two hours later. I had stuffed the photo back into the envelope as fast as possible; I knew what I looked like.
I was ugly.
Mr. Knightly had taken the liberty of getting me some new clothes from the gift shop, for which I was beyond grateful for, as the people in the ambulance had apparently cut off my dress on the way to the hospital. He hadn't left the room besides that one time, when Dr. Mardeés was talking with me.
I didn't want to go home yet. Mr. Knightly, thank goodness, only saw the bruises on my face and arms, so I didn't have to worry about him knowing. Even then I felt more reluctant now than ever to return to Samuel, especially a day or so past when I should have been home. I stared at my feet, hesitating before pushing myself up off the bed. My head swam the moment I was upright, and I gripped the bed rail for support.
He was by my side in an instant, snaking his arm around my waist and gently taking my right hand in his. This was by far the most kind gesture I've ever received. More than clothes, money, anything; he was supporting me when I was weak.
He had no idea how much this meant.
I stood more confidently with his strength to help me to the bathroom, and I was I better by the time I closed the door. As I changed into the sweatpants an sweat shirt, I couldn't help but catch a glance in the mirror and wonder.
Why was my boss, so cold and distant usually, so kind and caring when I least expected?
I shuttered as my eyes focused, dropping my gown to my ankles as I glared back at the girl in the mirror. Visible bones, bruised skin, tired eyes. I turned away, knowing full well I probably scared the living daylights out of anyone who looked at me. I felt miserable, trapped in a weak body and weaker mind. I was thinner than a size zero model, unhealthy.
Though I was in awe of how much I could take, I felt my breaking point drawing closer. My body is weak, but I must fortify my mind now, before I lose it. I felt a sinister emotion over come me, a wry smirk on my face as I set out to approach life and return to reality.
I felt helpless.
By the time I had opened the door, I had freshened up well enough to pass as tired, if you could see past the bruises on my face of course. Mr. Knightly sat on the edge of the bed, not on his phone checking his emails like usual, not on a call, not anything. He merely sat with his head down, hands dejectedly in his lap before he rubbed the back of his neck. He looked tired, as if he had hardly slept last night. I wondered what was the matter?
I looked down myself and blushed, feeling quite informal in my casual attire while he still wore his work clothes, minus the coat. He had rolled up his sleeves to about three quarters length, exposing his forearms, and he still wore dress pants, nice shoes, and a button down shirt.
I looked back up just as he noticed I had entered the room. He smiled a small smile.
"Feeling more comfortable?"
"Yes, thank you," I smiled, feeling my cheeks grow warm again as I looked back to my feet. I wasn't used to anyone caring more than just 'how are you?' And the response of 'fine, fine.'
"What's wrong, Scarlett?" He asked, genuinely curious. I smiled a little more, unsure what to say, or if I said anything, where to start. All I could do is look back into his deep, dark, handsome eyes. No matter what happened I could not seem to put his attractive looks and personality aside. I felt so alone in this world that his companionship, when present, made me feel more comfortable than I ever had. This was a slippery slope to be sure, but I was no threat.
I had a 'boyfriend' waiting for me at home.
My smile faded as I admitted the point that had been on my mind.
"I don't want to go home yet. I'm not sure I want to be alone."
