Stolen By Him | ✓

day fifty nine point five

a/n: (tad bit late, but) happy new year to my lovely readers c:

||DAY 59.5

As soon as they reached the cabin, the silence didn't linger. Matthew flicked the light on, placed Lana on the bed and scrambled around the room, looking for whatever he needed. Lana had never seen him act in such a way; he never strayed far from his composed self. Even when he was angry, it was always so restrained.

The pain had subdued slightly to only a sharp pulling sensation when she moved.

He appeared in front of her again and she knew there was no stopping the inevitable- looking him in the eyes. It was stupid to think this would never happen, and that she'd last with mere glances every so often. But now, with him right before her, she had no where else to look.

His grey eyes were cracked with red, angry lines, and were highlighted by the deep-set bags under them. His jaw was clenched tight, defining how sharp his jawline was. He wasn't even looking at her.

He looks so... broken.

"Where did he hurt you?" He said, voice stiff and his breathing controlled.

She hesitated, as everything finally started to click in her mind of what had just happened. That guy tried to attack her, Matthew found her and brought her back here.

She was back- back to where she started in this bloody nightmare. At this point, she didn't see any reason in trying to hold back the tears. They fell silently down her cheeks- she only had enough strength to let them go.

"For God's sake Lana," he spat out. "Just tell me."

She placed a hand to her side. "Here."

He pushed her hand aside so he could pull up her shirt, but as he did so, she noticed his own hand- knuckles split, and glistening in crimson red blood.

"What happened to your hand?" She whispered, almost unsure of how to approach him in such a mood, as he tended to the bruised skin on her body. Despite his stiffness, his hands were gentle.

He paused momentarily, and gave her a look. It didn't take her long to discern its meaning.

"W-what happened to the guy?"

Did he...?

"He won't be bothering us anymore," he said, but as he did, a tremor started to run through his hands. Still, he continued with his ministrations.

A coldness settled over Lana, seeping under her skin. "Matthew... What did you do?"

He pushed himself up then- all flame and fury. His eyes burned with something dark that she didn't recognise. He slammed his fist against the wall and she jolted, as though it was her being hit.

"This is all my fault," he said, his words spoken so low it could've been carried away with the howling wind outside.

Lana stood up, almost forgetting the pain in her stomach, as an inexplicable wave of anger took over her. "Your fault? How could this be your fault?"

"I let you leave." He thrusted his fist once more into the cracked wood- blood left in its wake. He did it again, and again, each time with more force than the last.

She grabbed his hand with her own shaking fingers, unable to take it anymore. "Stop it! What is wrong with you?"

As if her words had some power over him, he slumped suddenly, resting his forehead against the wall. Her hand was slick with his blood. She grasped on tighter, afraid he'd slip through the cracks and explode.

"I should've killed him... Why can't I do anything right?"

The fact that he was serious about killing someone should've been what concerned Lana the most.

But it wasn't.

Watching him stand there, so bloody and broken, hurt. Lana wished that it didn't—hell, she would've sold her soul to the devil if it meant she didn't have to be here— but she couldn't fucking help it. Everything about this situation was so wrong and messed up, but in the end, she still cared about him, whether she wanted to or not. There was always going to be that part inside her that overpowered the hate and disgust, burying it underneath what she'd felt for years. Comfort. Safety. Solace.

Feeling this way was the most painful thing she'd ever experienced— she was convinced that no amount of physical pain could surmount to it.

Her voice shook as she spoke. "There's so many things that you've done wrong Matthew, but this isn't one of them."

Slowly, he pushed himself off of the wall to look at her with tear-stained eyes. He fell into her arms, and she grasped him tight, because there was nothing else she could do.

Monsters don't cry, Lana. Monsters don't cry.