H.S | When The Flash Fades | First book

Chapter 22. Leaving

They say that before something great happens, everything falls apart.
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I'd like to provide a content warning for this chapter. It addresses sensitive topics, including physical abuse and manipulation, which may be triggering for some readers. I believe it's crucial to emphasize that these elements are portrayed with the utmost care and consideration. The intent behind including these challenging topics is to raise awareness and shed light on the harsh realities that some individuals may face. If you feel that this content may be distressing for you, I strongly recommend exercising caution or choosing not to proceed. Remember that your well-being is a priority, and if you find the content overwhelming, it's completely okay to step away.
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[Departure in 7 hours]

Frantically, you pound on Sam's door, desperation etched on your face.

Sam - Hey, what's up?

His casual greeting fades as his eyes lock onto your tear-stained face and the blood on your knuckles.

Sam - OMG! Baby?! What happened?

You're trembling, hyperventilating, and no coherent words escape your lips.

You - I...he...what...why...

Sam - Come in, come in.

He opens the door wider, urging you inside. You step in, hands awkwardly held in front of you. Sam guides you to the kitchen sink, starting to wash your blood-stained hands. You stand there, staring at the water turning red.

You - He...hurt...tour...I...how...why?!

Sam interrupts gently.

Sam - Love, just breathe and keep washing your hands.

Struggling to find composure, you follow his instructions. Sam begins preparing hot cocoa to offer some comfort.

You - I...I...I need...need a shower. I'm...I'm dirty.

Your voice is shaky, breaking with the weight of the situation.

Sam - Oh yeah, for sure. Just go; I'll get you a towel and some jogging clothes for you.

Nodding, you head into the bathroom without any belongings. You hadn't planned for this; you just ran to Sam. In front of the mirror, you hardly recognize the person staring back at you, filled with self-loathing. Numbness sets in, tears streaming down your cheeks unnoticed. Your body, however, betrays the turmoil it's been through, violently shaking, a stark testament to the trauma you've endured.

In the bathroom, you struggle to peel off your clothes, each article carrying the weight of the recent events. With every layer removed, your body unveils not only the marks of your struggle but also the silent testimony to the ordeal you've suffered. The bruises and wounds, now exposed, narrate a story more vivid than words could convey, etching the painful details of the earlier events onto your skin.

The shower offers a sanctuary, a place to wash away not only the physical residue but also the haunting memories.

Under the cascading water, you let it wash over you, attempting to cleanse off the dirty feeling you have. The warmth offers a momentary reprieve, a gentle touch that contrasts sharply with the violence you've endured.

Sam knocks on the door, gently placing a stack of clothes and a towel on the sink.

Sam - Take your time. I'm here if you need anything.

The words hang in the air, offering both solace and a reminder that you're not alone. You allow the water to embrace you, creating a barrier between the past and the present.