Don't ≫ N.M

Chapter 3: Would It?

Lately you say he been killin the vibe
Gotta be sick of this guy
Pull up, Skurt
Get in the ride
Left hand is steering the other is gripping your thigh

* * * *

"Malia," Nate sighed, walking towards her, "please stop crying." He pleaded.

Another fight. Travis and Malia got into yet another fight which caused him to leave. They had went out to eat at a local restaurant and just so happened to run into Jasmine, Travis's ex.

Of course she attempted to seduce him, running her finger up and down his chest, smiling and giggling like a child, winking and making sexual innuendos. Travis did nothing and Malia had gotten sick of it. She stood up, cussed out Jasmine and they even got into a fist fight because Jasmine got into her face and pushed her.

Travis actually got mad at Malia and forced her to leave with him. Once they got to the house, Travis shouted and called Malia a "jealous, insecure bitch" and she called him a "sad excuse of a boyfriend."

The end result was Travis throwing a vase and leaving.

"I hate fighting with him." Malia cried, sniffling and leaning her head back.

Nate realized the scratch on her cheek and on her collarbone, "Woah, where did these come from?" He cupped her face, "Did he do this?" His jaw clenched.

Malia pushed her eyebrows together, "What? No," she pushed his hands away, "Jasmine did it when I got into a fight with her." She sighed.

Nate's face softened as he examined her, holding her bruised bloody knuckles and seeing the dried blood in her nose, "Come on," he made her stand up, "let's go get you fixed up."

Malia nodded, sniffling loudly as they began to walk towards the bathroom in her room. He sat her on the counter and grabbed her first aid kit she keeps under the sink.

Malia hung her head low, her hands shaking with anxiety and her breathing irregular. She couldn't calm down, no matter what she did. No breathing exercises she had been taught was working. It only made her cry more.

Travis and Malia has never fought that bad. She was just convinced he was never coming back and she wasn't sure she was ready for that.

Nate lifted her face and began to clean her scratch and nose with peroxide. He expected her to wince but she felt nothing, she was numb to the physical pain.

Her eyes were low and so bloodshot red  from crying they looked like they hurt. Her light brown skin was pink due to her crying. Her natural glow he loved so much wasn't there at the moment, he hated to see her this way.

He grabbed her shaky hand and cleaned her bloody knuckle, wrapping it up and placing a soft kiss on it.

"Malia, please stop crying. I hate seeing you cry, you know that." He begged, pushing a curl off her forehead.

Malia scoffed, "I can't fucking help it, Nate. You know I can't control my emotions!" She exclaimed, "I wanna stop crying! I wanna be emotionally immune! But that's not me! That's not how I was born! I'm weak and I cry!" She shouted, "It's not my fault." Her voice shook and she began to cry again.