You can't save her (Homelander)

Chapter 53

Safia sat on the couch with her knees to her chest, staring blankly at the tv with a now cold cup of tea in her hands.

The apartment was quiet, save for the humming of another news report featuring Homelander and Stormfront once again, throwing Safia under the bus. She hadn't slept well—hadn't really slept at all even days after his visit. Homelanders visit wasn't terribly surprising- she only wished he hadn't seen her at her worst. Her very worst...

Safia prided herself on keeping her calm- but he'd gotten under her skin. He'd made her feel so inadequate, treated her as nothing more than a pawn, then his fucking therapist once again.  And she'd just let him. How pathetic

A knock at the front door ripped her from her thoughts.

She didn't move at first, assuming it was Homelander and he'd just break the door down with a flick of his wrist. Clearly it wasn't- he'd never knock twice. The knock came again, louder this time and Safia found herself on her feet, moving towards the door. How anyone got up to this floor she had no clue...

Eyeing through the peephole, her tired hazel eyes looked in to see a gruff english man in a trench coat, dark eyes boring through the door as if he knew she was there looking at him too.

"Fuck off Butcher," she snapped instantly.

He smirked. "I got me crowbar, doc, we can do this the easy way or the hard way."

"Fucking asshole..." she mumbled, undoing the useless chain latch on the door and opening it to see his smirking bearded face as well as three individuals standing behind him.

"Fuckin' hell, doc," he exclaimed when he saw her worn down appearance, "you look like absolute shite."

"What are you doing here?"

"What am I doin' here?" He repeated, walking past her and into the apartment, looking around, "what the fuck are you doin', more like? Look at you! You're a goddamn mess."

The three figures who were behind him awkwardly stepped into the high end apartment. It was the first time they had seen the woman in person, and right now she was not like they had seen on tv.

"Safia, we've heard a lot about you. MM," he introduced himself before pointing to the pretty japanese woman behind him standing next to a skinny man with a goatie, "this is Kimiko and Frenchie."

Frenchie nodded, offering her an awkward smile. "It is a pleasure to finally meet you, even if the circumstances are... less than ideal."

Kimiko silently gave a small wave, her expression softening as she took in Safia's exhausted appearance.

Safia waved back with her own tired smile, trudging after Butcher as he poked and picked up random objects. "You've been sittin' here, lettin' that bastard waltz in and out of your life like he owns the place. Jesus, Safia, have some fuckin' dignity."

"God you're a bastard," the brunette uttered, rubbing her face and reaching for her half drank cold tea.

"What? He already won't let you go anywhere... do anything, he's forcing you to parade yourself as some desperate ex housewife,"

"I don't have a choice—he's too powerful," she insisted, dropping herself on the couch, "I'm serving my time, letting him get it out of his system and then I'm going back to my home then thats it."

"Cut the fucking shit!" He growled, pointing down at her like she were a misbehaving child, "that's just what he wants you to think. He's got you so scared, you can't even see straight. But here's the truth, love—you've got more power than you think. You're just too bloody scared to use it."