Consequences : A Michael Afton x fem!reader fanfiction

Chapter 8 | show me.

[A/N]: yeah so basically this chapter is all over the place, so have fun.
- k
This chapter contains
- swearing
- talk of violence
- too many unrealistically cute moments/j

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"You know you're not obligated to tell me right?" I spoke, putting my hand on the table...I don't know why I did that. "No, I just...I want to tell someone, and you just...well you know now, so..." he pursued his lips together looking everywhere but at me. We sat in silence for a little bit, I was waiting until he wanted to continue...if he wanted to continue.

I felt like this wasn't right. Like I shouldn't be the first person he told about his mom, it should of been the cops or some form of authority...not me.

"It's not just my mom...it's me too." He almost whispered, he was ashamed. My once pitying expression turned into an angered one. That man was getting away with not just hurting me, but his wife and son.

"What about your brother?" I questioned, I knew it wasn't my place to ask questions but I needed to know that he wasn't hurting another person, let alone another one of his children.

I didn't know how too comfort Michael...I should've known.

Michael had a few bruises on his face and arms, I couldn't see his legs but I would bet there were some wounds there too. I guess I just thought that it was fights he got into or something, same as everyone else...I would of never guessed this.

"No, he would never lay a finger on Evan." He closed his eyes and shook his head again, It was almost like he wanted it all to get out of his mind, he probably did. "I think he hates me." He said in a whisper, his eyes still closed as he let out a dragged breath.

I could tell he didn't think that, he knew it...it was a fact to him. His father hated him, he just didn't want to hear it.

"I just....I don't know what to do." He put his head onto the table, his arms keeping his head just slightly above it. "I want to run away, you know?" he chuckled, I couldn't tell if he was being sarcastic or not, but I had a feeling he was. "Im going to stop now, stop talking about it." Michaels voice muffled as he covered the rest of his head with his arms.

"He pulled a knife on me." I sat and stared at him, his head came fully up, distress covering his features, "he what?" I looked away from him out the window besides our booth, I couldn't believe I said that.

"I don't really want to talk about what happened last night...but he pulled a knife on me." I shook my head slightly. I was ashamed, scared, hurt, and all of the above.

Michael moved out of his side of the booth, I thought he was going to up and leave, but he came on onto my side of the table and grabbed my arm, "what the hell are you doing!" I said trying to yank my arm away, but he had a tight grip and wouldn't let go.

He pulled up my sleeve revealing the few cuts and the multiple bandages covering my arm. "he did this?" Michael looked up at me, my arm still in his grasp. "Let me see your other arm." I pushed him a bit, enough to make him let go, "stop it dipshit! No!" He looked at me, then looked down at my other arm...there was blood bleeding through my shirt sleeve.

"Your arm.." he pointed to it, "I know, I can see it too." I grumbled before grabbing a bunch of napkins off of the table and rolling up my sleeve, I used them to compress the wound. "Go back into your side before someone sees us...I don't think we need someone calling the cops on us because they think your some abusive boyfriend or something." He looked at my arm then at me one more time before going back onto the opposite side of the booth.