Navy Blue Eyes.

Her Three Knocks. | .28

Light filtered in from the dirty window over Rowan's head, warming her skin slowly. It was early, the light blue through the tinted glass, and she had only managed to force herself into two and a half hours of nightmare-filled slumber. She watched distantly as Ricky turned over on the couch again, clearly uncomfortable, before returning to gazing listlessly at the window pane. She now regretted ditching her purse in the bus, she hadn't been in a right mind and was somehow convinced that bringing her phone would result in Kellin tracking her down, or worse... Tanner.

    His name sent a thrill of fear through her. In reality, she knew she'd faced much worse by men much more intimidating, but that didn't seem to matter. All logic was abandoned in the face of suffering. Rowan also, as she had been doing all night, reminded herself that he was left in the dirt, they were somewhere far away by now. Every mile, every bump in the road, every jostle of switching lanes, was a small comfort to her.

    She wondered-somewhat begrudgingly-what Kellin was doing now. She'd admitted to herself that she needed him, she was fairly certain that was a fact that would never diminish in her life, but that by no means meant she forgave him. Rowan knew she'd acted out the night before, she blamed herself entirely for what had happened. It was all her fault. But she still felt betrayed, she still felt that the trust he'd worked so hard to coax her into building was crumbling, if not fallen completely. Perhaps to any normal person seeing their parent as only human wouldn't be that big of an ordeal, but to a girl whose entire childhood was based on being raised by monsters, the loss of the image of Kellin that had been smashed the night before was devastating. She not only needed Kellin, she needed him to be her rock. She needed him to be her constant. She hated herself for acknowledging her weakness, but she was in too much of a mess to deny it.

    What truly pained her the most was that Kellin knew. He was in fact the only person in the whole world who knew all of it. Or, at least, he knew more than any one else in her life ever had. She'd sat awake with him in the middle of the night, too afraid to let herself sleep for fear of her night-terrors, he'd asked her questions and she'd answered them with the utmost honesty. He'd heard the story of the time she was beaten within an inch of her life at the hands of Scott, and how she hadn't let anyone touch her for the whole month's hospital stay it took to recuperate. He'd consoled her on the floor of the bathroom at two in the morning, holding her hair and allowing her to lay her head on his lap as her stomach rebelled against the new intake amounts, and he'd let her break down in his arms more often than she thought was possible. He knew it all, yet he went ahead and did the thing that fucked her up the most anyway.

    Rowan tried to make various excuses for him: But I upset him; but he might've been pressured to drink; but it was my fault; but I ran away; but he's so stressed out; but it's part of his job; but it was just for fun; but he didn't mean to hurt me. However, each was more feeble than the last in her mind. Nothing was truly a worthy excuse.

    Still, it was all her fault. No matter what, she'd have to live with that. She was almost positive that no matter the severity of his hangover, Kellin would wake and call her social worker. It was over now. She'd done herself in. He was surely calling Kate and Rowan's team to ask to move her to a foster home. She mentally readied herself to return to enduring the type of pain she'd grown up with. She'd lived her whole life without him, she would do it again. She would handle the beatings and the assaults, she knew what went on in foster homes, and it was all her fault anyway.

    Physical pain, whatever degree of intensity it was delivered in, was something she was accustomed to. This type of deep emotional agony? She was totally unprepared. She felt as if she was drowning, her lungs screaming out for what they needed but she was unable to give it to them. She would never feel that security again, the safety of curling into Kellin's chest and hearing the way his heartbeat was a natural metronome as he sang her to sleep.