Chapter 4 - Revelations
Allan slumped back in his seat, reeling from the events of the last half hour. He ran a hand down his face, rubbing at the sparse hair on his jaw while attempting to think of a suitable course of action.
Before that, however, he took a moment to consider exactly what happened. One minute, he and Elena were lost in their conversation, blissfully unaware of everybody else in the bar - as far as they were concerned, they were the only two people there. The next, she was being whisked away by a threatening hulk of a man; vulnerable and terrified out of her wits.
He took a moment to ponder how much simpler this would be if he were a knight in shining armour, straight from the legends of old. He would be able to rescue his fair maiden from the clutches of anybody who endangered her, and gallop off to safety without so much as brandishing his sword. Or perhaps a superhero, soaring through the night in a race against time to defeat the evil supervillain, saving the beautiful hostage in the process.
Allan came crashing back to reality when his thoughts were disturbed by his obnoxiously cheerful ringtone. He fumbled in his pocket for his phone, pulling it out and almost dropping it in the process. He rushed to unlock it, hoping and praying that his hunch was correct.
Sure enough, there was one unread message from Elena.
He opened it, wary.
I'm so sorry, I owe you an explanation x
Allan's fury towards the situation only multiplied when he saw how apologetic she was, and how she evidently felt he was angry or disappointed in her - she couldn't be more wrong. He formulated a response, and replied.
There's no need to say sorry, are you alright? x
Her response was almost instantaneous.
Come round? x
He immediately pulled on his jacket and rose from the booth, practically marching out of the bar. If his memory served him well, he was about ten minutes from Elena's house - he dropped her a text to say he would be there as soon as he could.
And, with that, he took off down the dimly lit road.
She wasn't indoors, as he expected her to be. Instead, she was perched on her garden wall, swinging her Converse-clad feet like a little girl. Her hands gripped onto the wall either side of her thighs and her head hung low, her face shielded from view by her long hair. She wore only a loose fitting t-shirt and a thin cardigan to protect her from the evening chill - except, tonight, chill was an understatement.
Allan approached her slowly, opting for the silent treatment. He pulled himself up onto the wall so he was sitting beside her, but he never uttered a word. Instead, he started to swing his legs too, mirroring her movements exactly.
After about a minute, the silence was broken.
"Allan, I'm-"
"Elena," he sighed, "you don't owe me any kind of apology."
"Yes I do, or at the very least I owe you an explanation!" She almost sounded frustrated. She wanted nothing more than to pour her heart out to him about her situation, just purely for the sake of relieving herself of this burden; she just didn't know how, or if she even had the capacity to do so without breaking down. The last thing she wanted to do was scare him off.
In the end, she began to wonder if it was a good idea telling him at all. After all, they had only been close for a matter of weeks, she wasn't entirely certain she could trust him with such a distressing secret. Being an optimist, she liked to think that she could, but there was no way of predicting how he would react.
"Look, I came round to find out if you were okay, not to have you apologise to me about something you can't control."
Elena just sighed - after all, he had a point; she was powerless to stop Guy behaving the way he did.
A sudden gust of wind blew down the street, causing the shivers that Elena had been suppressing to be released. She rubbed the tops of her arms in an attempt to warm herself up, battling in vain against the ever-decreasing temperature.
Without so much as a word, Allan removed his jacket, and then his maroon hoodie - the latter of which he draped around Elena's shoulders.
"Thank you," she said, the corners of her mouth twitching into the vague form of a smile. She slipped her arms into the sleeves and untucked her hair from the back of the garment.
This movement, however, and the light from a nearby street lamp, revealed more of her face than she had intended. Allan paused as a feeling that could only be described as fear built in his stomach.
"Elena," he began, slowly, trying his best to keep his voice neutral, "what is that behind your hair?" He watched her eyes widen as it dawned on her what was not lost on him, like it had been on so many others. The dilation of her pupils in panic confirmed it for Allan - his suspicions were correct. For Elena, she was clawing at her mind for a new cover up; a new story to delude her friends and family about the recurring bruises and cuts on her body.
"Elena?" Allan prompted, his voice adopting a dark tone of masculinity. His eyes, again, travelled to her face as she shook her head, sadly. Elena's hands shook with not only nerves, but realisation. Not one person knew her secret; she wasn't sure whether she was even ready for Allan A'Dale to become privy to it. Allan reached out towards her, precariously, waiting to gauge a reaction before he completed the action.
Elena flinched. She couldn't let him...could she? A thousand thoughts flew through her head, and before she knew it, she had bent her head, allowing him better access. The cooling, soft touch of his fingers against her skin sent a shiver up her spine, contrasting the sparks she felt as he brushed a lock of her dark hair behind an ear, eliciting a sharp intake of breath as he inspected the (unfortunately) eye-catching red mark.
"He did this, didn't he? Did Guy hit you when you left the bar?"
She shook her head.
"No, he didn't hit me when we left the bar," finally finding her voice, she replied to his question timidly, "because he abused me instead."
Allan watched in silence as her face grew cast with both sorrow and dark impressions, that could only have been made by the hand of a man. The anger and fury burned in his stomach. He was overwhelmed - her fragility was down to nothing but a coward. He needed to stay calm, and strong, for the shivering girl next to him, however, so he exhaled for a few moments before he spoke again.
"What did he do?"
Cautiously, the sleeves of his hoodie and her cardigan were pulled up - to display ugly red scrapes; fresh, yellow bruises; and prominently, age old scars. Her pale skin was hardly visible behind all of the mementos of pain.
"What didn't he do, Allan? We started dating two years ago. He was the rich boy of Nottingham's Sixth Form, and my parents...well, they didn't discourage us going out, let's put it that way. He was smart and doting, and I'd never had a boyfriend before - what could go wrong?" Elena explained, before bitterly murmuring, "Everything."
Allan tried to listen to her. He was naturally a good listener, but in this specific circumstance, he was deafened by anger. It was so testing to stay calm and hear her out, due to the vicious pumping of blood through his veins.
"After our last exam in Year 13, we went to a party. Guy had organised it, and his investment banker father hired out a huge suite for us all. Guy bought me a dress to wear: a dress that just happened to be the sluttiest, most provocative article of clothing ever to grace a bloody shop floor. I refused to wear it, as I knew that most of my friends would be wearing jeans or shorts, not a ridiculous micro-dress with diamante and sequins and..." she trailed off, shuddering, before composing her demeanor and continuing, "Guy wasn't pleased when he discovered I intended not to wear the dress. He clutched my arm so tight that it was so sore and stiff that I couldn't even dance, and I had to wear an extra inch of makeup just to barely cover the bruises forming."
Her face twisted in anger, and Allan felt a similar emotion in his stomach. He let her finish, before he asked his questions.
"Of course, he gushed with apologies the following morning. Of course he did. And a week later, when my wrist ended up broken, he was incredibly sorry again. After a while, he stopped apologising. He didn't care if my arms bled and ruined my clothes, he didn't care how hard he hit me...as long as Guy got what Guy wanted, everything was fine.
"It's the same now. I feel like I'm in a prison every day, and there's no escape. Captivity, if I can call it that, doesn't scare me; the thought of being with him for the rest of my life does. I'm his precious diamond that fades when exposed to sunlight, so he treats me as if I cannot be apart from him. The only barrier I have is that I refuse to live with him, but that won't last for much longer. If he hates me so, why does he want me? Why doesn't he replace me with a blonde bombshell? I ask these questions every single day of my life. All I can think of is that he wants to be in control of someone, or that he wants to practise his blows."
A numbness overwhelmed Elena by the time she finished speaking. She felt like she was describing someone else's life to Allan, and for a moment, she almost didn't believe it was her life. Allan's face scared her, a fraction - mainly because he, too, looked numb. There was no prevailing emotion etched into his expression: in fact, there seemed to be so many running through him that he didn't have the capacity to focus on one emotion.
Allan himself tried desperately to think of the appropriate words to say to her. They sat in a deafening silence as he wracked his brains, to no avail. Instead, he sighed, and instinctively wrapped his arms tight around her. The unexpected action led Elena to still, not responding in the desired manner for at least ten seconds before she let her body relax.
In all honesty, she couldn't remember relaxing in someone's embrace, like so, for years.
Allan's scent was subtle, but once she inhaled it, she couldn't get enough. Unlike Guy's overbearing leather stench, Allan smelled of fresh cologne and Vimto - an unlikely but attractive combination. His jacket, soft and warm, rubbed against the plane of her cheek. She leaned into it, relishing the moment. His hands roved around her back, soothing her tight knots of tension as her head rested against his chest. They stayed like that for what seemed like hours; but was probably only mere minutes.
"Can I ask a few questions?" Allan finally pulled away, posing the question as he looked into her eyes. Elena nodded and (feeling decisively awkward) pulled away from their embrace. Allan kept close - he wanted to show as much support as possible. "Why do you not break up with him?"
Her pause said it all - the flicker of terror crossing her face as she imagined the outcome. His hand rested on her elbow, one finger drawing light circles.
"I tried. After a while, I came to the discovery that it was no use to retaliate, or try to escape, because it would only get worse. I became weak, and he knew it. He exposed my weaknesses - and if I leave him, I'm open for attack."
"Does anyone else know?"
Elena's guilty shake of her head sent a fierce bolt of emotion into Allan's stomach. Anger? Remorse? Sympathy? Pretty much all bloody three.
"I haven't told my family. I can't. I have a big family, and if they knew...I doubt they would let me out of their sights. It would be too overbearing. Apart from you, I've never really had a friend of such who showed any interest in why I am...the way I am."
Allan nodded curtly. Elena shivered - even his hoodie didn't provide enough warmth for her thin body.
"Just one more question. Did he...you know, try to..." Allan trails off. She's a smart girl. She should work out what I'm hinting at. Especially if he has taken her...no, I cannot even entertain that idea.
Again, Elena shook her head. But with the shake of disapproval came an uncertain bite of her lip. In this type of situation, uncertainty worried Allan.
"No, he didn't," she stated, slowly, as if she was choosing her words selectively, "but he threatened to."
That did it for Allan. He stood, fluidly, and lashed out at the wall.
"Bastard!"
"Malicious little twisted sod!"
"I swear, if I get my hands on him, I'll make sure he never sees another hour...the shit!"
They were only some of the curses Elena could make out. She hugged her knees - her mouth forming the perfect 'O' as a new side to Allan was revealed: the protector.
"Don't, Allan: please..." Elena pleaded, quietly, as Allan omitted a bitter growl. He paused, and dropped his gaze to observe her pale face. He didn't want to scare her; after what he had just learned, that was the last thing he wanted to do. He ceased his actions, and returned to the wall, taking her by the elbows and turning her to face him.
"I'm sorry. I can't help it, Elena, it's soul-destroying."
She looked down and bit her lip. How can one, tiny action look so adorable?
"I wish you weren't involved." She said, plainly. Allan refused to believe that it was him who she didn't want involved - the scenario was more likely to be that she just didn't want anyone involved. Tough - Allan cared for her (a great deal more than he was willing to let on right now) and he would let no git, no matter how much leather he wore, intimidate and hurt her any more.
"I am," he replied, pulling her to her feet and keeping a soft hold on her elbows, "and I'm going to make you feel better."
Elena's eyes widened in surprise, and she blushed as her mouth opened and closed silently, like a fish. Allan realised what he had just implied - and his head fell forward as he cracked up with laughter.
Elena's eyes shone with bemusement at the sound of his laugh - it was undoubtedly the most heart-warming sound in the world. Nervously, she beamed.
"Honestly, that wasn't what I had in mind," Allan clarified. His expression grew serious again, and he took a step closer to her so that his torso inched towards hers, "in fact, my idea was a date. You and me, tomorrow. I'll take you somewhere, and we'll enjoy ourselves. No Guy, no University...just you, and me. Up for it?"
Elena smiled. Allan, so confident and vibrant, showed the tiniest signs of nerves as he asked her out. She looked at her hands for a second, which rested against his forearms. She had a boyfriend, but not out of choice. Therefore, there was no reason for her to say no to this offer.
"Yes, of course," she breathed, letting a small smile grace her features. Allan looked overjoyed by her reaction, and swiftly dropped his head to press a chaste kiss to her forehead. A spark ran through Elena - in that moment, she suddenly wanted to seek comfort from him, to grab him by lapels of that god-like jacket and kiss him with full force.
However, from the past, she knew it was wrong to seek comfort from others. Allan had given her so much that night - even just sitting and listening to her was more than anyone had done for her in years - so she didn't want to burden him further by confusing him.
He's just here because you texted him. He probably wants to go home. You've freaked him out.
Allan stepped away from her, and indicated gently to the door of her house.
"You should go inside; you look freezing," he commented making to leave. Elena nodded.
"Allan?" she called, turning around as he moved down the path. He swung back around, exuding the renowned A'Dale swagger. Elena stammered, trying to think what to say - however, when she looked at him, her face conveyed everything.
"Thank you." The two words meant more to the pair than they would let on. They were a sign of gratitude - a symbol of a developing relationship.
A/N: Just to say, to anyone reading this, we've had over 100 visitors in the past month - and little reviews! If you are completely bored by this, or you love it with every fibre in your body, then PLEASE drop us a note. It's so helpful to writers. Or, alternatively, head over to Twitter and tweet us at either UnaIsNotorious or sophsayssupdude. A little goes a long way! Anyway, this is a rather fast update (for us) and we hope you enjoy it.
Next chapter: Allan and Elena unintentionally take their relationship to the next level as Allan takes her out on a special day trip. Fluff ensues. And so does Guy.