When We Fall

f i f t e e n *

.15 | saige
-not edited-
*mature content*

"WHAT THE FUCK."

I gasp, my eyes shooting up to meet his.

"Cas?" My voice comes out broken, half sob half whisper. He can't be here. He can't. He's not supposed to see this part. He's not supposed to know about this.

His eyes sweep around the room, his face switching between worry and unreadable emotions.

I know what he's looking at. He's looking at the bruises on my, the gash on my lip, the tears flowing down my face. The vodka on the floor. The large kitchen knife grasped in my hand. The blood on my neck.

"Saige," His voice is barely above a whisper, the gentlest I've ever heard him speak, as if just the sound of his words can break me. "What happened darling?"

He crouched down next to me, reaching out but I back away. Or scoot. I'm on the floor, with my back against the wall, but I move away from him until I'm at the far end of the bathroom, against the tub.

"Was it him?" His voice doesn't even sound angry, just completely calm, and soft. Like he's speaking to a baby. "Did he hit you?"

I squeeze my eyes shut tight as the sobs rack through me again, the visions refusing to leave my mind.

I manage to nod my head, not bearing to look at him. He blows out a long breathe, and I feel him sink down next to me. He doesn't make a move to touch me, and let's me compose myself on my own.

"I-it was my fault." I sound like a blubbering mess, but my nerves are so shot I couldn't stop crying if i tried.

He stiffens. "I promise it was not your fault darling, no matter what. Do you wanna tell me what happened?"

I squeeze my eyes shut again, and he leans his shoulder against me, just the smallest amount of contact providing me enough support to form the words.

"I was too drunk to stop him this time." He opens his mouth, but closes it again. "He came over last Friday, you saw because you text me. He was drunk, and he started yelling at me. I was scared, at first I didn't want him to leave because I was scared of him driving in that stage, but he was just so angry.

Eventually I got him to go home, to leave me alone. He threw things at me, slapped me a few times. He tried to hit me, to grab me, but I hit him with a vase and I was able to hold him off.

But he came back tonight, just as drunk as last time. Except this time I was drunk too. He was stronger than me, I-I tried to fight him off, push him away. But it didn't work." I pause, swallowing down the lump in my throat, "It was a phone call that saved me. He hit me, yelled at me, I thought he was going to kill me. Then he started touching me, groping me." I close my eyes and shudder, "He was so close to-to... if his dad hadn't had called when he did, he would've raped me. He had me right there, and no matter how much I screamed he wouldn't stop. If it weren't for that phone call-"

I stop there, he gets the point of the story.

He lightly touches my hand, as if asking for permission. I grab it, placing our hands on my thigh as I turn to look at him.

"I'm so sorry darling, I had no idea." His voice is just as soft, but wavering. He's losing it, I can tell he is. He's trying hard to mask how much this affects him, but it's absolutely killing him.