Yours, Mine and Ours

Pain throbs up my arm as my fist falls against the white wooden door, leaning into the doorframe to keep from falling. Thankfully there is no one in the hallway to see me. I have a feeling I look bad enough that if a stranger saw me, they'd call the police. I wouldn't run. At this point, Lily could stop me from running. Even standing here, leaning my weight into the doorframe, my legs are shaking.

"Mama?" Looking down at Lily, I find her looking both scared and concerned. The little girl squeezes my hand, not letting go.

"I'm okay, baby. Mama's just tired."

She doesn't look like she believes me but nods nevertheless. A moment later the door opens to reveal Amber. She looks nice in just casual jeans and a sports bra, even with the numerous bruises littering her chest and neck. She looks good. Don beats her and forces himself on her but he doesn't starve her or mutilate her, thank god. So even though her skin is different colors, her breasts are full and her stomach toned. Her face is bright and clear and round. Amber sees me and her eyes widen. She says nothing in front of Lily.

"Lily. Honey. Why don't you go inside? Put on some cartoons," she suggests, smiling at the girl. Although Lily has no clue how to work a TV, she immediately forgets about her concern for me and runs inside giggling. Moments like these make me happy that she's so young and her attention span so short.

Amber still says nothing. She slides my almost limp arm over her shoulder and slides one of her arms around my waist, helping me walk inside. She sets me on the bed in her and Don's vibrantly decorated room, ordering me to lie down. I obey.

Sitting cross-legged beside me, she demands, "What happened?!"

Shaking my head, I try not to cringe as I sit up. I can't stay long, I'm supposed to meet Damon at his place soon. We're so far behind on our assignment and it's all my fault, I can't ditch him anymore. As I sit up my torso bleats in pain. Maxxwell did something to me last night. That pop which I thought harmless seems like it may not have been. I'd rather have whatever it is removed than have it hurt this much.

"I need you to take her," I tell Amber, leaning back against the expensive headboard. Seeing she is about to argue, to say that I'm fine, I give her a pleading, begging look.

"Please, please don't fight me. I'm not okay, Amber, and she isn't safe there. I'll give you every bit of my pays, any money or supplies I have, whatever you need. She just can't stay there anymore." She's silent for a moment and I begin to become anxious that she wasn't serious about her offer to take Lily in.

But then she answers, "Okay, I will."

A tear breaks free from her eye so I grab her hand as hard as I can, which really is kind of pathetic.

"Promise me you'll take care of her. Don't let any of them touch her. If you can't handle it, find someone you trust to take care of her. I give you my blessing to do that. Just keep her safe, promise me. Keep her in your life, whether it's as mom or friend."

"I promise," she cries, nodding rapidly. Seeing that I'm done, she calls out for Lily. I take a deep, deep breath and almost burst into tears when my little Flower comes bouncing in. The wide grin on her face fades as she takes in the aura of the room. Something she's always been good at, intuitively knowing how people are feeling.

"Mama?" I gesture for her to climb onto the bed and then I pull her straight into my lap.

"Mama, you're sad."

I nod, "Yeah, I am sad, Pumpkin. There's something I have to tell you, okay?"

"What?" From beside me, a sob escapes from Amber, drawing Lily's attention. Lily's lips start to wobble as she then looks back at me. I push a few stray curls out of her face, setting them behind her ear. This is goodbye. I don't know what to say to her, or how to say it, or anything. I'm never gonna be able to see her grow up and drive a car, or find love. I'll never see her get married. I can never play dress ups or do her hair to give her make-up advice. Nothing. She's going to grow up without me. And who knows what lies in my afterlife, who knows if I'll be able to watch over her or stick around beside her, or if I'll see her at all.

I grasp her face, trying to smile, "Mama's got to go, Flower. We're not going to see each other anymore, okay? I love you but I can't come back to get you."

Her brows furrow together, "Why?"

"I just can't, baby."

I slightly tighten my face against her face as I tell her sternly, "You stay away from dad and grandpa, okay? Their names are Jake and Maxwell, can you remember that for me, Pumpkin?" Still looking confused as hell, she nods.

"You stay far away from them. If they come near you, go to Amber or a stranger or the policemen, okay? You do not ever go with Maxwell and Jake. Do you understand?" She nods again.

"I love you so much, okay? Remember that. I love you more than life. You're my whole heart, okay?"

Her lips wobble as she nods again.

"I love you, mama. This whole much!"

She holds her arms out to her sides, as far as they can go, fast enough that she almost gives Amber a black eye.

I can't help but smile at her, unsure of how I could ever let go of her.

*_*_*_*

Knocking on Damon's front door, I make sure not to lean on anything or look too bad. I have to look at least half okay. I hear him yell for me to come in and I sigh, blinking away the blurriness in my eyes. Just walking, reaching out to turn the door handle, it's so much effort. It takes so much more energy than I have. But, somehow, I dig it up out of me. I close the door behind me and the room spins as I turn, enough that I have to lean back against the door to not topple over. But it doesn't help, everything still spins and goes blurry. Though, this time it's not blurry from my tears.

"I reckon we shou-What the hell happened?!" My face warms as his hands touch my cheeks and I blink a few times, trying and half-failing to clear my vision. They're heavy too, I just want to close them. My whole mind doesn't want to work, my body doesn't want to be standing. I was half decent at Amber's house but the walk from there to here was longer than I thought it'd be.

The room shakes and spins once more as Damon scoops me up into his arms. My body relaxes into him immediately, relieved not to be having to work. I let myself relax, leaning into his warm chest, staring up at him as he walks around the house. He looks so sad.

"It's okay, I'm gonna get help. Just stay awake for me, okay?"

My chest aches and my throat is numb. I can't be bothered to answer him, I don't think I can. Blinking a few times and pressing his lips tightly together, he looks away from me. I hear the jingle of his keys a moment later. When he steps outside the cold wind seeps into my bones instantly, as if it was aiming straight for me. It elicits a groan from my throat, the breeze cold enough to be painful. Biting his lip, Damon glances down at me.

"I'm tired," I tell him, but I can't hear myself, so I'm not entirely sure if I actually said anything. I can only hear my heartbeat. It's so slow, so so slow. Reaching up to grip his shirt, I feel the fabric under my fingers and-

Beeping wakes me up, unsteady and slow. As I'm waking up, I realize most of the pain is gone, just replaced with a cool numbness. It doesn't surprise me. I know I'm in the hospital just by the feel of the scratch blanket over me, and the smell of the room. What does surprise me though, is how soft the material beneath me is.

I wouldn't have opened my eyes for a good long while if I hadn't heard a scuff from beside me. I open them to inspect the noise, my eyes are heavy and now stinging. Beside me, in a very uncomfortable looking chair, sits Damon. He's leaned back in the chair with his head back and eyes closed. If I didn't already know where I was I'd figure it out just by the look of that chair, and the countless machines I'm hooked up to. Normally, I'd freak. This time though, I can't find the energy to care. Nor to speak, to alert Damon that I'm awake. So I lay there, waiting, just watching him.

Time passes oddly quick and before I know it he's jolting awake. The minute his eyes fly open they're glazed in panic, from whatever he was just dreaming about. However, when he sees me it all fades, he almost falls out of his chair. Immediately, he's moving as close to the bed as he can get without being on top of it.

"Hey," he greets me. His hand comes forward and I find myself not caring if he hurts me. I haven't got the energy to care, let alone defend myself. Lily is safe, that's all that matters. But he doesn't hurt me. Instead, he runs his hand through my hair and caresses the backs of his fingers against my cheek. I feel a smile tug at me lips. There's no noise, no people, everything is so quiet. Silent, almost. And safe as safe can be.

His thumb strokes along my prominent cheekbone as he asks, "What?" I breathe in deeply, mustering the energy to start speaking again.

"Quiet," I tell him, finding my voice quiet and raspy. I stare at him in silence, like he so often does to me. His lovely green eyes are so flat, so sad. There are bags beneath them. His lips are dry, his stubble dark, and his hair disheveled. It makes me wonder how long I was asleep and how long he's been sitting in that chair. However, the duffle bag sitting open against the wall, clothes falling out of it, makes me think the worst.

"You stayed," I say, my throat already becoming sore. He takes his hand away, rubbing it against his stubble before grasping my hand.

"Of course I did. It's you," he responds, smiling sheepishly.

Despite all the pain I've been in, I'm glad he's been here for the last few weeks of my life. I've missed him and our late-night movie marathons, his cuddles too. Our midnight adventures making snacks and even whole ass meals. Him having to hide under my bed or squeeze himself into a kitchen cupboard. I miss his smell too, which sounds weird when I say it aloud, but I do.

I smile back at Damon and he leans in close, pressing his warm lips against my cheek. He pulls away just a little, his minty breath fanning my cheek.

I watch as he swallows hard and then speaks, "I . . . I miss-"

He halts mid-sentence as the door to the room opens, Jake and Maxwell striding in. Their scowls turn to smiles when they see Damon in the room. Forever upholding their facades. Just by the sight of Maxwell's uniform I know he's come straight from work, so I'm going to get it when I get home. It serves as a reminder as well. That no one will ever suspect him of committing such heinous crimes. No one would believe me if I went running to the police, and even if I did, he'd squash the accusation before it could get out.

A flicker of shock and also confusion crosses Jake's face, likely at the sight of Damon's hand closed around mine. Damon sees it and lets go of me, brushing invisible lint off his shirt.

"Damon," Jake greets my friend, "What are you doing here?" I know it happened, and yet it's still hard to believe that the two of them were like brothers at one stage. They used to be willing to take bullets for each other and were almost inseparable. I glance at Damon, steadying myself for whatever he's about to say. Whatever he says, it'll end badly. Damon looks from them to me, the nice, soft face I always see replaced with his 'Bullet' facade. The face that scares people, even Jake, and Joshua. I don't know what Damon figures out in the few seconds he stares between us but he ends up thinking it better to lie.

"She collapsed at school earlier today. I saw, so I just brought her here. Problem, Jacob?" Jake doesn't respond, just scowls a little. When Jake suddenly stopped talking to Damon and started to avoid him, Damon confronted him. Their last conversation ended in a fistfight. Damon won by a landslide, unsurprisingly.

Maxwell stares at me as Jake stares down Damon.

"Damon, is it? I think it's time for you to be leaving. I need some time alone with my daughter." My arm tingles where Damon's fingers brush against mine, both Jake and Maxwell's attention flying to it. Damon looks at Jake, at Maxwell, then me. He stares at me the longest, in that way that he stares. Like he wants to say something but can't bring himself to do it. He almost said whatever it was just before. As he goes to pull away, before I know what I'm doing, my fingers are curling, trying to grab his hand. I wish I could beg him not to leave. His head whips to me when he feels it, confusion the only thing present on his face. I almost ask him to stay, but wisely decide to keep my mouth shut. It'll only make things worse. I'm going to end my life in the next few days anyway, there's no point getting attached again. So, I let go of his hand and he leaves without another word or glance. The men left in the room look at me.

"Where is my kid?" I almost spit at Jake.

"Gone," I say, my throat scratchy and sore. His face contorts in anger and I watch him build up into saying something harsh, but Maxwell stops him before he can, a hand on the boy's shoulder.

"Wait outside," Maxwell tells him. It almost makes me start crying. Wait outside . . In other words, stand guard. Jake smirks and nods, leaving the room and shutting the door behind him. The second the door clicks shut Maxwell springs into action, ripping the blanket off my cold body. I want to grab it back but my body won't move, it won't obey me as he climbs onto the bed and on top of me. Weak and miserable, another two words to describe me.

He lifts my gown and grabs the pocket knife he always has with him from his pocket.

"You are mine," he snaps, slapping me in the face with his free hand. I barely feel it, the world already becoming lighter and lighter, everything beginning to disappear. The machine beside me beeps slower every second. Maybe this is it. Maybe I won't go out on my own terms. This is fine. Hopped up on morphine, just having spoken to Damon, Lily safe with Amber. Maybe my time is up.

Maybe I'm okay with that.

"You want to open your legs for him? That boy is worth a hundred times more than you. He's intelligent. He'll become a businessman. He's too good for you. You want to open your legs for him, I'll make sure he never wants you to again."

Even with the morphine drip, the pain is excruciating when he takes the blade to my navel, and then lower, slicing through my folds. He uses his free hand to grip across my face, covering my mouth and nose. I can hardly scream because I can hardly breathe. He only lets go of my face when he takes the blade away from me. I catch a brief glimpse of the blade, dripping with blood, almost coated in it.

Smirking, he climbs off the bed, cleaning the blade with the inside of my hospital gown.

"He'll never want you again now, no one will. You're mine, forever," he tells me, re-pocketing the now clean blade. "Now, you can stay tonight but you'll discharge yourself and get your ass home by morning." I can't speak. I can't nod. I can't move. Even the pain is starting to fade. I'm not safe anywhere.

So when the world gets dizzy, when it goes blurry and harder and harder to see, I close my eyes and hope that death is finally coming.