One in a million

Bruised | 3 |

My eyes grow tired and my body weakens as the car moves along the highway,

I grow closer and closer to sleep as minutes pass by and we grow farther from my parents, my whole life sleep never felt safe, I was always terrified to close my eyes, not knowing if my parents were waiting to harm me, or if my dad did so in my sleep,

Sleep seemed more like a curse my whole life, I always feared what was hidden within the dark, or what could've happened while I rested,

"Sleep, you must be exhausted" the man's voice interrupts my thoughts

"I-I can't" I admit in a whisper

"Why?" He asks, his voice filled with curiosity, though there's no pressure in his voice for me to tell him things I may not want to,

"I'm scared..." I swallow looking down at my hand in my lap, my poor boney hands

The man who I'd guess was around five years older than me sighed,

"You're safe now, I promise," he says glancing at me briefly, he gives me a few minutes in the silence before he breaks it again,

"Are you over eighteen?" He asks

"Yes, I'm nineteen, what about you?" I nod

"I'm twenty-six, And your parents can't tell the police or force you to come home since you are of legal age, they can't do anything to you anymore and they won't get to you while I'm here"

I'm not sure why...but his presence made my lungs deflate and my body relax just slightly, to the point that I let myself sleep.

| a couple of hours later |

I wake up in the comfort of a soft pillow instead of the cold, wet floor of a cell, a blanket covers my body instead of the cool wind breezing past my body,

I open my eyes to see that I'm in a room...a beautiful, big one, it's grey and has accents of black and dark blue, with pictures here and there of a family, and warm blankets on the bed that currently cover me.

It isn't anywhere near the cell my parents hid me in underneath our house In the basement.

"You're awake, how do you feel?" The beautiful man walks into the room, not in a suit this time...but just sweatpants

My mouth goes dry at the sight of his chest, "I-I'm—, I don't know" I whisper

He nods and sits on the edge of the bed, he lifts a bottle of some kind of ointment "this should help ease the pain of your bruises...my friend who's a boxer uses it all the time"

I close my eyes tightly "I don't want to look at my body" my voice cracks at my confession

"You want me to help put the cream on?" He asks gently, to which I give a nod too

"I'm going to start on your legs, is it okay that you lift your dress so I can put it on?"

I move the dress up high to my thighs, and I hear him sigh deeply, as he probably examines my legs, a few moments later I feel warm, big fingers gently going over some of the scars,

A cool cream hits my skin a second later, instantly calming the burn of all the cuts and bruises.

For such a big, tattooed man...who looks quite terrifying, he truly is so sweet and gentle toward me.