SAVED ☆ Bang Chan [COMPLETED]

15

“No,” I stammer, edging backwards into the kitchen sink. I hit my lower back with a painful thud, but i barely feel it; my eyes are glued to the menacing flare in my mother's eyes. "Please, don’t mummy. I’m sorry, I’ll be good.”

“Bad girls need punishing, sweetheart,” she snarls, brandishing her blazing kitchen knife infront of me as she creeps forward, her steps slow and deliberate as if to intensify my terror.

My hands tighten on the counter table top, my fingers trembling. I lean backwards as if the plug hole can swallow me up and I gulp automatically, trying to get rid of my dry mouth. It doesn’t work. I have nowhere to go; I'm completely trapped.

“Now this will all be over in a minute, sweetie,” my so called mother croons, inching forward with the knife a centimetre away from the band of skin just above the waist of my trousers. I clench my eyes shut, bracing myself for the pain just as she slams the knife down onto me -

I scream, the sound instantly muffled by the wet pillow my face is on. I cup my hand over my mouth, eyes widening as I realise Chan is next to me, and my mother could have heard. Waiting a few minutes, I realise my mum is still asleep and I let myself breathe, tears spilling down my cheeks like a waterfall, the scar on my stomach aching all of a sudden.

“Y/N?” Chan’s worried voice cuts through the darkness and I blink around, unable to see in the dark. Panic washes over me; it's suddenly too dark, too suffocating, and I gasp, the sound of my mother's shrill laughter ringing in my head like a siren.

The light snaps on and I see Chan stretching over, his hand on my lamp before he sits up, moving closer to me. I shrink back at the memory of my dream and he stops in his tracks, putting his hands behind his back. “What’s wrong sweetie?”

I shake my head slightly, wrapping my arms around my knees, not knowing if my scar is actually throbbing or if it’s my superstition. My stomach clenches at the strange feeling, my surroundings buzzing around me like angry bees.

I try and formulate a sentence but all that comes out is a garbled string of incoherent words and I drop my forehead onto my knees, trying to block out the infuriating sound around me and the beginnings of a fresh panic attack. Moments later, however, I feel my anxiety rising up to the surface and bubbling out of me and I cry again, clutching at the bed sheets as the dimly lit room seems to close in on me. I’m nearly completely lost in the maze of discomfort when Chan’s soothing voice gradually increases in volume, and my fractured brain seems to make out the repetitive words coming from him.

“Breathe, Y/N. Inhale for four and exhale for seven,” Chan whispers, his hands still behind his back and I manage to feel guilt through the bubble of panic. He looks like he's itching to move his hands, but his fear of alarming me keeps them in what must be an uncomfortable position.

I nod and breathe in, holding it for four seconds before letting it out for seven seconds. I repeat this three more times and I feel slightly better, better enough to communicate.

“What do you need sweetie?” He asks me, staying as still as he can to avoid scaring me.

I swallow, my eyes travelling to the fair skin of his arms. “Can I … can I hold your hands?”

He blinks in surprise before bringing his hands infront of him, switching position so he’s completely facing me and his legs are crossed. I move my trembling hands to his, and slip them into his, running my fingers over his smooth yet callused skin, the veins raised and thick under my hands. I grip onto them tightly and he squeezes my hands back, his eyes finding mine in the darkness. For once, I don’t shy away from his gaze, but rather, find comfort in the softness of his dark brown irises, the tiny flecks of gold looking like stars in a beautiful galaxy. I find myself devoid of breath the longer I look into his eyes, but not being able to look away from him. He notices and runs his thumbs over the backs of my hands, his warmth suddenly calming the frantic swamp of anxiety inside of me, and it subsides quicker than the sea before a tsunami. A fresh set of tears spill over my bottom lashes at the comfort I feel by him being here, and I cry until there are no tears left, until my throat is sore and my eyes are sure to be swollen when I wake up again.

“I’m sorry,” I sniff, looking down at my lap. One of his hands slips out of mine and I feel his gentle fingers on the underside of my chin, pulling my face up to meet his again.

“Don’t apologise,” Chan murmurs, looking me in the eye. “Never apologise for how you’re feeling. Okay?”

I nod, glancing at his blonde hair that is edged with the golden light of the lamp, making him look as if he’s glowing. My stomach lurches with emotion and it takes all my willpower to not launch myself into his arms.

“What happened?” He asks, moving his hand back to mine. “Did you have a nightmare?”

I nod, not knowing how much he wants to hear.

He offers me a careful smile. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Do you want to listen?”

He nods and wriggles closer, looking attentive.

I sigh, despite myself. Again, with those dreadfully heart warming puppy eyes.

“When I was a kid, my dad left me,” I begin, biting my lip. “Said he didn’t want anything to do with my mum anymore. That she’d gone crazy. That night he left, I got upset and cried, of course. Mum hated me crying. She told me to stop and I wouldn’t, so she decided to hurt me. That was the first time she ever did it,” I say. I pull up the edge of my shirt and move the waist band of my shorts out of the way, revealing a jagged, brown scar, the size of two fifty pence pieces, surrounded by a line of silvery flesh. “She branded me with a knife and then made some cuts haphazardly over it. Apparently it made her feel better knowing I was ‘disciplined’” I make mock speech marks in the air as I finish with a bitter tone.

Chan stares at the part of me I showed him, now covered with my shirt. He stares with a glazed over expression at me and I am terrified as to what he’s going to say.

He reaches forward and before I know what’s happening, I’m sat straddling his lap, legs thrown around his waist as his bare, muscular arms hold me tightly in place, his face resting on my shoulder. I place my hand on his head and run my fingers through his hair as I’ve always wanted to, the fair locks running through my fingers like rough silk. He holds me tighter than I’ve ever been held before and I gasp at the contact, at his heat filling my empty body, at the way his arms fit so perfectly around my sides. Everything about him is warm and soft, including his deep scent that fills my nose in a sweet kiss, making me bury my face in the crook of his neck. I breathe him in, intoxicated.

He lifts his head, eyes rimmed red as he brings his face close to mine, so our noses are touching.

“I’m going to save you,” Chan whispers, a fat tear rolling down his cheek. I lift my hand and smooth my hand under his eyes, wiping away his tears. “Don’t worry, Y/N. You won’t have to deal with this anymore.”