Deals With The Devil's Spawn

Wrap it up or zip it up

Before Porter, I'd never known true terror. Never known what it was like to love someone so much that just the thought of losing them tore at your heart, gutted your insides and left you to bleed out. Finding out she had been rushed to the hospital, for the second time since she had gotten involved with me, nearly about killed me.

I'd been a few minutes away from her home when the ambulance had driven past me, going in the opposite direction, and even though that ambulance could have been coming from any other house, my stomach had instinctively dropped. My heart stopped in my chest, and my hands began to shake.

I'd called her phone as soon as I could stop shaking enough, and when she hadn't answered, I'd called her mom, who's greeting had been the hospital's name they were taking her to.

I don't even remember getting to her semi-private hospital room, or calling my parents, and getting them to immediately switch her to a private room. All I remember was standing in her door a few hours later, staring at her lying motionless on that stupid gurney, her beautiful face, pale, and littered with bruises and cuts.

I'd walked to her then, without stopping until I was lying next to her, my body curled around hers, and my arms wrapped around her, and I thought about the many ways I would make them pay for this, while silently begging her to forgive me.

I'd laid there with her, refusing to leave her as her mom had walked back in, coffee cup in hand. She hadn't said a word, instead choosing to sit next to her in the unoccupied chair, silently sipping her coffee, her stare vacant.

We hadn't said much, except for me promising her that they would pay for this, and for her quiet mumble that I would have to get in line. One of the nurses had walked in then, throwing her mom a dirty look, that immediately slipped when I glared at her, sending her skittering out the room like her ass was on fire.

Time had dragged on, every agonizing minute that went by, reminded me that I'd failed her yet again. I'd failed to keep her safe. I kept failing her. Kept letting her down. I didn't deserve her. I never would. And everything in my told me that I needed to let her go. I needed to let her find someone who did, but god help me, it was impossible. I couldn't let her go. I couldn't bear the thought of her being with someone else. Someone else making her laugh. Someone else being able to love her, kiss her, hold her.

It was selfish. And I was a prick, but I as hard as I tried, I couldn't help but want to keep her with me for as long as she would have me.

"Brayden?"

I turned to Porter, forgetting my thoughts, my eyes finding her green ones, and I gave her a small smile. "Yeah?"

"We have to talk about this," she repeated, and I looked away, shrugging.

"I don't want to."

She sighed, dramatically, and I couldn't help but smile. "Yeah, I heard you the first time, but I need to tell you this. I need you to know the full truth so you can make an informed decision on whether or not you still want to be with me."

"I told you already, nothing is going to change my mind," I replied, turning to face her, and cupping her cheek, I kissed her soft lips, before pulling back to kiss her nose, trying to make that worry in her eyes go away. "But...this is important to you, so talk to me, baby."

She pulled her bottom lip between her mouth, and I fought a smile, knowing that that's not what she needed right now. "Do you remember when I told you that my dad was Russian?" I nodded. Did I ever? I'd had one two many dirty dreams of her talking to me in Russian, but that's not something she needed to hear right now.

She nodded once, looking down at our joined hands, "And do you remember what you asked me after you and Claws got into that fight?" At my puzzled look, she elaborated, "You asked me why it seemed like he knew me, personally."