Run To Me | BAK sequel

Prologue

Words: 1524

Warnings: There will be violence, sexual references, and possible smut. (no guarantees) This story will also focus around both Y/N and her daughters struggle with mental illnesses so if you're not okay with talks/symptoms of PTSD and OCD disorders the this won't be for you.

Notes: Angels, I think you all deserve this fic after waiting so long.

Posting day: Tuesdays

{Y/N}

The therapist stared the small girl down, little brown curls littered her forehead like springs as she fiddled with the teddy bear in her hands. It was a little bit tattered at the edges, a certain spot of fur matted together but it was the little blue bear that she'd had since birth, the one that hid at the bottom of her junior school bag because she refused to go to school without... some days. Some days she preferred the little, white and slightly creepy looking cat that she'd carry around by the tale.

Her hands. Red, raw, bloody. Your own daughter, falling apart right before your very eyes.

"Rosie?" The therapist asks, trying to come to eye level with your daughter but it was difficult. Despite her blabbering on about how independent (without actually using that word) and brave she is, she struggled to even look into the eyes of a stranger.

"Rose?" You whisper, bobbing your knee up and down to get the small girls attention. "Can you talk to the lady please?"

"I don't want to be here." She mumbles, bottom lip falling into a pout. "I wanna go home."

You take one of her hands in your own, thumb gently running over the little pink and white hello kitty band-aids. She doesn't seem to notice, looking at the pile of kids toys that sat in the corner of the room.

"Harper just wants to help you like she helps me." You try to prevent your voice from shaking and almost fail too if it weren't for a quick side eye from the therapist. "She's nice, sweetheart."

Your daughter was never difficult, on edge definitely and you partially blamed yourself. She'd been bought up seeing you hide in a shell both of your old self and one of pure fear and terror, merely smiling and sometimes not even leaving the bed. On those days your daughter would lay next to you, a rerun of teen titans or how to train your dragon on Netflix. She surely heard your screams in the very middle of the night and saw you freak out whenever she was too loud.

"No, mum." Your daughter looks up, her glassy eyes finally off of the teddy bear. She begins wriggling around in your arms, the small girl grunting as she fails. "I wanna play with the toys."

You were unsure but eventually sigh, letting her go. The near-five-year-old jumps down, little legs making their way towards what children would call 'Heaven'. There were lego pieces and board games and the odd Rubix cube but your attention was directed towards her little hands, the size of a large tomato but that didn't worry you, what did was the fact that her hands were the color of one.

The therapist coughs gently, leaning forward in her seat. "So from what you've shown me I definitely see signs."

You weren't surprised, not even batting an eyelash. "What can we do from here?" You ask, foot tapping gently against the carpeted floor, a nervous habit.

"There's nothing you really can do, neither can I considering her age. Rosie is young, this could easily just be a phase." She almost shrugs it off casually, black glasses slipping down her nose and she was quick to shove them up again, eyelashes hitting the frames.

"So you just want me to-" You begin, with no success.

"You can bandage them, give her toys to play with and keep her nails short but that's about it for now-"

"You want me to let my daughter keep doing this to herself? To sit back and watch?" You feel your eyes prickle and Rosie seems to ignore your sudden outburst. Either she was listening carefully as she often did, focusing despite your knowledge or she was completely oblivious, focusing purely on the game pieces.

A wave of anger washes over you, as well as fear and guilt. The system was screwed up, sure, but you didn't know how bad until then and there. Your hands trembled, afraid that you couldn't stop this, you couldn't be the mother Rosie needed.

"There is nothing I can do. I'm sorry, I know it must be hard but you can help, even just by talking to her about what she's doing."

You grit your teeth, hands clenching around the arms of the chairs. If you gripped them any harder you fear the wood breaking off, snapping beneath your fingertips and causing a magnitude of splinters.

Rosie listens, wondering why the two adults were talking about her while she was in the room. The little girl was notorious for picking up things she shouldn't and at that moment she was trying to decipher what they were saying and why her mum looked like she was about to cry.

Her chubby fingers toy with a Rubix cube and while she had no idea what she was doing, she adored the bright colors. However, they clashed with the pink and white that decorated her hands. The hello kitty ones were her favorite, definitely better than the wiggles band-aids that'd been forced on her last week by the teachers at school.

What was wrong with her?

{ Tom }

"I don't care what you have tomorrow, We need to have a fucking meeting." Tom spat into the phone, face red hot with anger. "Your girlfriend can fucking wait. This is important."

His hands gripped the very roots of his hair, anger racing through every phone as the man on the other end tried to get out of it. Tom couldn't completely blame him, he'd do the same if he was about to lose his head.

The silence was all that could be heard through the other end of the phone between heavy, nervous breaths and the mobster already knew that he had this one in the bag.

"I can try-"

'Try' wasn't good enough, nowhere near it for the mob boss who had already been pushed past his breaking point by the same client multiple times. He was ready to get his hands dirty again, paint the town red and grey and make those that deserved it fall to their knees.

Tom turned towards his desk, fingers clenching around the cool gun, the metal making goosebumps arise. "You will be there or I swear to god-"

"Okay! Okay, I'll be there." Wilson muttered, pursing his lips together in defeat.

Tom almost laughed at the nerves that were visible through even the phone. The guy's voice shook with fear.

Tom hung up the phone, slamming it down on the desk in pure anger. People that messed with him and his business didn't get off the hook easily and this guy was no different- the fact that he thought he was made Tom's blood boil. It made the wheels in his brain spin with different possibilities and ways he could show the client who the boss was in this situation.

"He's coming?"

"He'll be there."