𝓞𝓷𝓵𝔂 𝓨𝓸𝓾𝓻𝓼

✿ Chapter Thirty Four - Painful

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Cole
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God... she looked terrible. Dark circles under her eyes. Red and purple bruises on her face and neck. Bandages covering her arms. I was afraid to know what was under them. I was afraid to know what other bruises and wounds hid under the blanket.

I watched closely as she drew in heavy, yet steady breaths. When she exhaled, I could only see her chest lower for a few seconds. They felt like hours. It was torture. Those few seconds were torture. They reminded me of... of the times Zane, my father, used to beat her up, rape her and leave her bleeding on the floor. God, those bruises where an awful reminder.

I closed my eyes tightly, hoping I could recollect the tears intending to fall. Wanting to cry was nothing. I wanted to sob. I wanted to weep. I wanted to hold her in my arms and tell her she'd never have to face that again. That I'd protect her, no matter what. A few months ago probably I would have done that. But now, she had Logan. Even busy, I knew he protected her. He protected her by allowing me and Nathan to stay here and act like creeps by watching her sleep. He protected her by not calling some untrustful fucks from the gang or some strange bodyguards.

My eyes lingered over her bruises once more, before getting squeezed shut by anger. I inhaled and exhaled, trying to relax myself a little. I had to relax myself a little if I didn't want to lose it.

Inhale...

Exhale...

Inhale...

Exhale...

That's what you learned at anger management. To breathe until you relaxed. Get rid of the negativity and try to think of the bright side. She was alive. She was breathing. She was here. Safe.

Thank God for that!

While I was at it, I let my mind wonder for a bit. I remembered of the days spent in that facility. Three months, two weeks and four days. I counted the hours and minutes too, because apparently that helped me relax. I remembered the white little room with a sink, a bed and a toilet. An awful picture. For someone claustrophobic it would've been catastrophic.

It was the longest period of time I spent without getting in a fight or making enemies. Well, the first record. All because I had to come home to Mom. Home to Charlie. I wanted to protect them from that bastard of a "father". Nobody else would. Not Vaughn, not Julian. They tried to help, but they never caught the son of a bitch doing it, they only saw Mom's terrible wounds and tried to help. They were fools enough to trust her on knowing what she was doing. By the time the morons figured out they had to force the idea into her head, she was laying almost dead on the porch. Took them nearly four years.

I exhaled, having a chill run down my spine. I could still remember how she looked after Zane had beaten her up. I wanted to get involved, I was keen on ripping his head off and laughing at the sight of his dead body, but Charlie was just as hotheaded and set on the idea of jumping him. I couldn't risk having her get hurt. She was too young, too fragile. I couldn't risk having her anywhere near him.

God, I still remember the fire in her. The temper that boiled in me and Mom. Only, Charlie was far worse. She was the definition of "she can be your best friend or worst enemy". And she was only ten. Only ten the last time I saw her. Right before the shotgun and the flames took her away from me. They didn't even find her body, just Julian's, burnt to a crisp.