Hurt

Donald was already asleep when he was woken by the sound of someone banging at his door. He woke up with heavy eyes that felt as if small stones had been poured into them. He rubbed his eyes and listened.

The knock was surely coming from his front door and it sounded urgent. He sat still not intending to answer the door. He didn't know who it was and he didn't intend to entertain any visitor late at night.

The banging persisted. He had no choice but to scramble to his feet and go to the door. 'Strange, why not ring the doorbell?' he thought as he reached the door. He looked through the peep hole before opening the door with a surprised face.

A crying Priscilla scurried into the house. Her face was covered in tears and sweat and her eyes were red and puffy. Donald's brain froze as he tried to figure out what was happening.

Wasn't she staying over at Richard's place? Why was she here? Why didn't she use her own set of keys to enter the house? Another look at her convinced him that she might have all together forgotten that she even had keys to his condo.

He felt his heart wrench like someone was stabbing his chest over and over again. The only time he had seen her cry like this was 15 years ago. What could've happened?

"What happened?" he asked with his voice laced with worry. "Did that son of a bitch do something to you?"

Now that he thought about it, a surge of anger washed over his body. He could only imagine the Colonel's hands all over Priscilla in all the wrong places!

However, Priscilla shook her head but didn't stop her sobbing. She wiped her face but the tears continued to pour down in a torrent of overflowing fountain.

"What happened?" he sat down beside her and pulled her into his arms to comfort her.

"It's him… Richard…." She stuttered a bit with her voice choked by her tears.

"What happened? Tell me." Donald rubbed her shoulder slightly. He was worried. This was the same way she had cried when he found her at that cliff.

She was so frail and scared and lonely that it had made his heart ache for her. Maybe that was the only thing that softened that beast's heart as he put down the gun he was aiming at her. He claimed that she was stalking him.

He couldn't wipe the image off his mind. K9 wasn't good company for her yet she still went with them because she wanted revenge.

"Richard has his medallions!" she said with shaky voice.

"His medallions?" Donald was confused for a bit before realisation dawned on him. The medallions!

She nodded slightly and whimpered. Donald frown deepened a bit and his face darkened. "Damn it, do you think he killed him?"

"I… I'm not sure," she sniffled. "But he might know something. He came in contact with The Zeros!"

Donald exhaled deeply not knowing the perfect reaction he should put on. "Did you confront him about it?"

She shook her head passively. "I had to leave there immediately. I couldn't stay."

"I understand. It will be okay." Donald blew air onto her hair soothingly.

"It's not okay!" she grunted. "It will never be okay. All this while I thought he had perished in the war front with those medallions but now it happens to be with Richard. I'm I supposed to be happy?"

"No."

"My father's medallion…" she muttered slowly.

"You should take it as another step to finding out the truth of what happened back then."

She didn't say a word but continued to whimper and sniffle till she fell asleep in Donald's arms.

….

Oliver returned home that evening with a bag of take out. He had been at Steven's but unfortunately his friend hadn't made any real progress with the task he had given him. He could only sigh and return home in silence.

The thought of going back home to find Valerie sent chills down his spine. He was afraid of looking into her eyes every day with that same glint of hatred and anger directed at him.

It hurt him as much as it did her but at the same time he also didn't want to relent and start doing things that would make him seem guilty of what he hadn't done. Any attempt to be good towards her would mean he was admitting to being the rapist.

He stopped at a restaurant to get food. He rarely ate at home and ever since the day that random guy had attacked her, Valerie had gone out less. That was four days ago.

Oliver wasn't even sure if she ate at all. She looked scrawny now and more of a skeletal frame than her old self—not that he knew what her old self looked like. He brought the food home and sure enough she was huddled on the couch with her feet twisted under her. He glanced at her a few times before deeply exhaling then moved forward and dropped the bag on the table. "I bought food."

She didn't say anything. He left and went to the other room where he kept his things. He had silently given her the main room. He showered and changed his clothes then came back again. Valerie wasn't there and so was the bag of take out.

'She ate it.' he nodded and sat down feeling really exhausted. Today he didn't go to the bar. He was beginning to feel that alcohol was creating problems for him rather than numb it.

He became thirsty and decided to get water from the kitchen. After drinking the water, he reached over to drop the bottle but noticed that inside the trash bin was the food he had brought home. His face paled a bit and he looked inside in a bid to confirm. It was really the take out he bought for her.

He sighed deeply feeling hurt. 'Of course she trashed it.'

He walked back to the living room with a dejected look. Why did he even try?