Saint Denis Sweetheart (Sean MacGuire x Reader)

(23.) If I Lose the One I Love

When you woke up again, you were in your bed. You figured your father must've brought you up here; how kind.

You moved slowly off of the bed. You were still wearing the same clothes as before, and they were stained with your bright red blood.

You partially removed the top part of your clothing and looked in the mirror. It was pitiful.

Your entire sternum was black and blue. Smaller bruises and cuts dotted the rest of your chest and trailed onto your stomach.

You covered yourself up quickly and wiped a few tears that had slipped out. You felt so ashamed of every mark he'd left. Why weren't you strong enough to fight him off? Why hadn't you just gotten up?

You turned to the door and tried to listen for footsteps. After hearing none, you crossed the thin hallway separating your brother's room from your own.

Nothing had changed since you'd seen it last. Maybe you were imagining things, but you swore you could smell him in the room.

You walked around slowly and carefully, trying to be as quiet as possible. Your eyes fell onto an old picture of you and your brother. It was displayed in the dead center of his dresser, perked up and facing the bed.

You brushed your fingers gently over it. This one was more recent than the old family photo you'd kept; it was just the two of you.

Thomas' smiling face appeared in your mind. You wanted to see him again, just one last time. Apologize for all of this, tell him you were sorry.

But you couldn't. Everything that had happened up until now, until this very moment, wasn't going to change. The only thing you could change was what happened next.

You heard the stairs creak and you grabbed the photo.

Your heart began to pound as you ran into your room as quickly as you could. You hid the photo under your covers and climbed into bed.

You shivered under the cold covers and closed your eyes. You tried to control your breathing as the footsteps got louder and louder.

He knocked twice before opening the door.

"Y/n? Y/n," he said assertively.

You opened your eyes slowly and tried to act groggy.

He must have bought it because he didn't seem angry. Instead, he sternly said, "Get up."

You pushed the cold photo further under the sheets and climbed out of bed again. He went down the stairs and you got dressed quickly.

You needed to find his money. If you could get him distracted, you could find it. Sure, getting him to trust you enough to leave you alone for more than a few minutes would be hard, but you could manage.

You went down the stairs in a rush and began cooking breakfast. Act as normal as possible; that was the first part of the plan. After that, you'd have to figure something out.

You didn't have time to wait for Dutch to rescue you. You needed to get out of there, and quickly.

You searched the entire kitchen for something to keep him sedated. There was only a few crumbs of valerian root left, which wouldn't be enough to keep him out of your way.

Eventually, you found more in the back of the pantry.

It was still going to be a bit of a risk, but what about any of this was safe?

You mixed it all into his breakfast and served it.

"Mhm," he smiled. "I have really missed your cooking, y/n, it's...dare I say it's magical."