Scars on my Heart ~ tnn

CHAPTER EIGHT

The steaming mug was placed infront of her, the dark of the Black Americano steaming.

Siobhan looked and was met with the familiar blue eyes of Vivian, so azure yet full of fight and comfort. As Siobhan sipped from the piping cup, she tried to keep her mood nonchalant as she gazed at the black haired woman opposite, peering over the brim of her drink.

Vivian smiled as she placed her cup down on the table, burnished with dark wood and plastered with stains and spilled paint.

"You wanted a meeting?" Siobhan finally says, her demeanour shifting slightly in the presence of her friend.

A friend.

Vivian smiled, leaning back in her chair, arms crossed over her chest in a form of casualty. A blue and striped top draped down her arms, black hair spilling into a neat bob that rounded her face perfectly, highlighting the bright blue eyes that were now focused on the woman opposite her.

"Yeah, I did." Vivian says confidently, tapping her fingertips swiftly over the surface of the table, "If you want to call it that."

Siobhan raises an eyebrow, "Well, what should I call it?"

Vivian grinned, leaning forward on her chair with a squeak, resting on her elbows, "A hangout between two friends, per-say."

A smile twisted across Siobhan's face before it was washed away with the thoughts of Roger, his demanding words and terrifying demeanour. What punishment would she have to endure if he ever found out? Would he add to the many black and blue bruises plastered all over her skin, hidden by the long sleeved top she always wears to stop everyone seeing the truth?

A look of concern made Vivian's eyes widen slightly as she reached across the table to cup her hand in Siobhan's.

"Is everything okay?"

Siobhan gasped at the gesture, instantly looking up with the same wide eyes painted on her face. The thoughts of Roger's abuse and torture had shadowed her mind relentlessly, so much that she would often do it mid conversation when the memories were met with certain words.

Like 'bathroom'. A simple word that you would normally excuse yourself for, or to discuss new interior you recently bought. To Siobhan, the bathroom was a room where the most secrets were kept hidden; where Roger did the unthinkable to her. Where she would lay on the cold, bloodstained floor, sobbing, begging and praying that that would be the last time she would ever find herself in that situation ever again. Composing herself, she would often hope that Roger would consider her behaviour well and not worthy of a punishment, though that day never arrived. She had come accustomed to lying on the grimy floor, wishing that her life was over.

Wishing she could escape.

"Siobhan?" Vivian reached across the table, intertwining her fingers with hers, shifting her chair closer.

Siobhan's head snapped up, immediately locking eyes with Vivian's concerned ones, her hand clasping around hers in a reply.

Vivian squeezed it reassuringly, brushing the blonde strands out of the other women's face, her fingers delicate, "Are you okay?" She hesitated, letting her eyes fall to the floor quickly, "Or is it Mr Relentless?"

Siobhan couldn't help but nod, humming slightly to herself. Vivian's facial features relaxed in sympathy as she rubbed Siobhan's shoulder. How was it that a woman she had recently met take such a liking to her, when all she was known as was a "homophobic whore" at work?

The blonde didn't really know what to say as Vivian rubbed her back soothingly, willing her tears to fall back into her eyes as she blinked furiously.

She couldn't cry, not when she had been strong for so long.