You sit on your bed, pretending to pay attention to the movie Rafe had put on. You have no idea what’s going on onscreen, you’ve spent the last hour thinking about how he’d shown up at your window. The bruises. The blood. The cuts. All put there by Ward Cameron. You clench your fists, anger washing over you again. This wasn’t the first time that Rafe had shown up at your window with bruises. You’d cleaned him up plenty of times now. And every time you wished there was more you could do.

You wanted to fix the broken parts inside of him. You wanted him to know that you were the one person that would always be by his side. You hated his father with every fibre of your being. You didn’t understand how a parent could inflict such pain on their child. And it wasn’t just the scars that littered his skin, it was the emotional damage Ward inflicted on him with his words. Ward tore his son down, spitting hate.

You sneak a glance over at Rafe, wincing when you see the black eye forming. That wasn’t even the worst part. His back was marred with deep welts. You’d tried to convince him to let you take him to the hospital, but he refused. He’d let you in, but he didn’t trust anyone else with the truth. He’d threatened to cut you out of his life if you told anyone. So you kept quiet.

The credits roll on the screen, and Rafe shifts beside you. He slowly gets up from the bed, flinching as the movement causes a wave of pain. He runs his hand over his hair, looking at you and then glancing over at your window, and you know he’s going to leave. He’s going to go back there.

“Thanks for the movie, princess” he says gruffly, already moving towards the window.

You leap off of the bed, and hurry over to the window, trying to use your body to block his exit. All you know is you need him to stay. If he’s here, Ward can’t touch him. If he’s here, he’s safe.

“You don’t have to go. Stay. Stay with me, please.” You say softly, reaching for his hand and interlacing your fingers with his. You glance up at him, your eyes silently pleading with him. “Look at that bed, it’s far too big for just me. Please.”

“Princess” he sighs, giving your hand a squeeze. Truthfully, there’s nothing he wants more than to stay here, to curl back up in your bed and fall asleep untwined with you. He just doesn’t want to draw you deeper into his mess.