Refusal

The entire weekend had gone terribly. Mike had relapsed back into his old behaviors after a night of staying sober with my mother. It seemed even her opinion didn't matter anymore. It broke my heart each time I looked at her; to see a parental figure so internally destroyed that she resorted to scumbags like Mike to fulfill her pathetic fantasies and let her own daughter be the victim of abuse. He had made me vomit from the amount of kicks he had placed on my stomach on Saturday and given my a split lip after chucking a fork at my face – I had spent all of Sunday in my bed rolling around in pain and by the time Monday came around, I wasn't sure that I could get off of my dingy little mattress on the floor. I practically had to drag myself out, still chastising myself for not scraping together any coins to go get laundry done and tried to get my makeup done as soon as possible. The bruise on my eye had faded incredibly as well as the purple marks around my neck, but there was no hiding the bruised and split lip nor the fact that I was slightly hunched over no matter which way I walked. I didn't even want to look at the damage on my stomach.

So, as best as I could, I got dressed slowly but surely in some acid wash jeans, a form fitting long sleeved shirt and my combat boots. Besides my old Chuck Taylors, they were the only shoes I owned, and I wouldn't have traded them in for the world. I picked up my keys and sighed, regarding Mike and my mother passed out cold on the couch and took the opportunity to get together a lunch for myself as well as a good breakfast, no matter how much my stomach complained that it wouldn't be able to eat for days. I walked as fast as my mid section allowed me to my bus stop, making it just in time once again and shuffling my huddled form towards the back of the flying vehicle. This time, when the 'X' shaped seat belts criss-crossed across my chest and the bus began to fall through midair, I didn't scream in fear or joy (some kids had gotten used to the roller coaster aspect of the ride) I screamed out of pain. My mid section was in agony, and it was one of the worst pains I had felt in my life. It lasted for a good twenty seconds – although it seemed like minutes that dragged on and on – until the bus leveled out as usual and dropped us off at the floating piece of land.

I stumbled off, clutching my stomach and trying my hardest not to puke. It was going to be very difficult to pretend that nothing was wrong throughout the day – the bags underneath my eyes had even gotten bigger as my stress increased. I made my way inside slowly, making sure to stay close to railings and taking my time to get to class – our bus had arrived earlier than usual, and I thanked the skies that someone up there had finally done something in my favor. It wasn't until third period that a large hand grabbed onto my tiny arm and dragged me into a secluded hallway, causing me to jump back and gasp very loudly out of reflex. In all technicality it was Mike's fault that I reacted like this – he had creeped up on me many times and surprised me with a punch that all I could do when someone surprised me was yell and scream in defense. To my surprise, it was Warren Peace, and he was apologizing from the get go.

"Eleanor," He let go of me immediately, putting his hands up to signal that he wasn't going to do anything. "I'm not going to hurt you."

I sighed, running a hand through my hair and slumping against the lockers behind me. My stomach was still in excruciating pain, and Warren noticed my grimace as well as the clutch of my stomach.

"What's wrong?" He questioned, looking me over before his eyes caught onto the bruise on my face. "What happened to your lip?"

"I don't know Warren," I snapped, fed up with his questions. He obviously knew what was going on, so I didn't know why he had to constantly tease me with his investigation. "What do you think?"

He shut up at that, and instead changed the topic towards the events of yesterday. "Look, I wanted to say sorry. For yesterday. I didn't mean to yell."

Green eyes met black, just like the very first day we met, as I tried to evaluate whether or not his apology was sincere. As someone who had dealt with endless streams of lies their entire life, I prided myself on the fact that I was able to detect when someone was bluffing. It seemed like Warren was telling the truth – he displayed an emotion that I had only seen a couple times on his angry face: regret – and I immediately felt my hard facial expression fall.

"Whether or not you meant it," I shook my head, looking to the side. I didn't want to make eye contact at the moment. "You have an anger problem – I don't know if it's because of your father or something else inside of your head, but you've got to fix it before it ruins everything for you."

Unlike Will, when I mentioned his father Warren didn't say a word, and instead listened to what I was saying with a stoic facial expression and his hands in his pockets. With every painful breath that I took and each word I spoke he seemed to grow more and more empathetic, and after I was done talking – and had to clutch at my stomach again – he apologized again.

"I'm sorry," He ran a hand through his hair, leaning on the locker beside me. "I didn't mean to get so angry. Stronghold isn't exactly a very friendly name in my house."

I didn't say anything to that, simply hunched myself over more and admitted that perhaps Mike had done more damage than I had initially believed. What was important was that Warren realized where he had gone wrong and how his anger would effect the rest of his life, but at the moment I wasn't exactly fit to give lectures, and before I knew it Warren was leaning down to my height to help me straighten back up. I hadn't noticed it before when he had grabbed me – but his touch was definitely warmer than a normal human being's. I could only assume that it was because of his powers, and let him lead me to a bench nearby where he sat me down and pleaded with me to tell me what was wrong.

"I can't help you if you don't tell me what's wrong," He rumbled, running his hand through his hair again. "I want to help you."

"I don't need help," I sputtered, clutching at my bruised stomach. "I need..."

"Need what?" Warren asked after a couple of seconds. It took him awhile to catch on to the fact that I wasn't going to answer him, because I had begun to cry. This didn't help my situation at all – it only caused tension in the muscles in my stomach as they tugged and pulled to accommodate the jerks of my tears – and therefore I cried harder. It was as sad as the stupid circle that my life had become; I was crying and making my pain worse, whilst my pain didn't go away because I wasn't doing the right thing about it. The right thing would have been to do to a doctor or to the nurse – but I chose to suffer as to not let anyone discover my secret. Warren situated himself next to me, stroking my back in rhythm but unsuccessfully distracting me from my pain. It took me around ten minutes to stop my tears, and by that time Warren had wrapped his whole arm around me and I had been leaning onto him for support. My cries faded out just as quickly as they had come, and I quickly realized that I now owed my new friend an explanation of some sort.

"I need..." I searched for a word. "A lot of things."

This didn't seem to make Warren feel any better, and he simply grunted before suggesting that we headed off to the cafeteria to eat. I didn't particularly want to go back there, but with Warren's encouragement I was convinced, and we trudged off down the hallway. As soon as the bell rang and the classroom doors opened, it was clear that things were going to be different from now on. The usual sea of people parted for Warren, but they didn't expect a girl to be walking right by him, as timid as could be, but shielded by the giant leather mass. Warren was big and scary, so it took a lot of courage for some students to even whisper about the situation as we walked by. It didn't feel good or bad; I was just walking with my friend, and perhaps if some of these students stopped and made a patient effort to get to know Warren a little bit better instead of torturing him all of these years, perhaps they would have gotten the same privilege.

We made it to our usual spot and sat quietly, Warren's eyes tracking my movements and facial expressions all the way. I felt like I was being watched, but not by a hawk ready to stalk it's prey like Mike watched me...no – the way Warren watched me was something else completely, and I had never experienced it before. Whilst he regarded everyone else with a sharp glare, he seemed to reserve a certain empathetic flame in them when he looked towards me. I noticed the safety I felt compared to the first day at school with him, and started to realize that he wasn't only staring to make sure that I didn't collapse on the spot. He was trying to puzzle me out.

And for some reason, I was completely and utterly alright with it.

"Eleanor," Warren began by saying my name the same day in our last class. We had been tasked with constructing a freeze ray in Mad Science, and I had been clutching the table in pain for a good five minutes. "Please let me take you to the nurse."

"Just keep building the fucking gun," I grunted, muscles so sore I couldn't find a comfortable position for them. "Please Warren."

"No – please Eleanor," He shook his head, begging with me. "Please let me take you to the nurse."

"Warren," I turned to him and met his gaze straight on, shocked by the intensity of it. "Listen to me – I can't tell anyone about this, and neither can you."

He put down the parts of the freeze ray, breathing heavily out of his nose and clenching his fists. I could sense his frustration building – he only wanted to help and I was shooting down all of his attempts. He clearly understood at this point that I was suffering from abuse, and although he didn't have any evidence towards it, wanted only to make sure that I was alright in the medical perspective. But I still couldn't bring myself to allow someone else to see the marks that Mike had put on me. It was too much to unveil; there would be questions and a phone call home, and I wasn't ready for any of that. Warren's current temper wasn't helped by the fact that Will Stronghold walked into the classroom minutes later, claiming that he had been switched into hero support.

"Little bastard got his powers when he was fighting me yesterday," Warren grimaced. "They had to rebuild the cafeteria overnight."

"You didn't get hurt, did you?" I found myself concerned for his safety, although that should have been a question that I asked sooner in the day.

"Does it look like I can't take a hit?" Warren made a face, glaring at Stronghold.

"No," I admitted, agreeing with him and looking towards Stronghold. He had most likely received his father's super strength. "You look like you could take a lot."

I caught Warren's smirk as he went back to work, but it disappeared as quickly as it had appeared. After a couple minutes of assembling and screwing around with some parts with little help from me – I just handed him the parts of the ray that he asked for – he held up a perfectly constructed freeze ray in his hands. The thing looked like a gun, and it scared the crap out of me. It took Medulla five seconds to walk over to our desk, accuse us of cheating and then test out the ray on one of our less fortunate classmates. I nearly jumped right out of my seat when he turned to me, terrified that he was going to expose us to the ice as well. Warren simply placed a hand on my back, stilling me and providing a warm rush to the muscles there. Medulla placed the gun down on the table instead, proceeding towards Will's table without a second glance back at us. I assumed that meant we had passed his test. I let out a long breath, running a hand through my hair and relaxing as soon as the large headed man walked away. Warren sighed along with me, returning his glare to the desk in front of us and holding out his silence until the bell rang. Then, instead of getting up abruptly and leaving the classroom like he normally did, Warren stopped and turned to me. He opened his mouth, then closed it, and then opened it again almost like a fish. It seemed like he was searching for the right words.

"I'm sorry about yesterday," He repeated once more and gave me a knowing look. "I didn't want you to see anything violent."

Too late for that. I almost snorted, but held my composure and tried not to flinch as another spasm of pain went through me. Unfortunately, Warren noticed and heaved a breath. He had given up on trying to take me to the nurse for the day and had instead settled for sighing every time I cringed in agony. He stood, waiting for me to get up as well, and it took me a second to realize that he had planned on escorting me to the bus.

"You take the same bus?" I questioned, making my way up the steps slowly and wondering why I hadn't seen him before.

"No," Warren sighed. "But I have work tonight anyway and this bus stops closer."

"Where do you work?" I questioned as I sat down and he followed suit.

"Paper Lantern," He played with a small flame on his fingers, lighting all ten before extinguishing them. "It's a Chinese Restaurant."

"Really?" My mouth began to water, and I licked my lips as I thought of all of the delicious food that I couldn't have ever afforded there. "Mmm."

Warren gave me another smirk, practically making me melt – as much as I tried to hide it he must have noticed – and offered to treat me to a meal some day. I politely agreed, fully intent on taking that offer as soon as I got to know him better. I wasn't going to take advantage of him off the bat, and I was sure that he was too busy with his job to sit down and have a meal. It was interesting to find out more about it every day – most students just referred to him as Baron Battle's son, so any of the gossip that I overheard in the halls when he walked by wasn't very helpful. People were concerned that the apple didn't fall very far from the tree, as it were, and that was precisely the reason why I was torn to shreds each time I looked towards my mother.

Speaking of which, I almost wanted to scream for Warren to stay on the bus as he departed with a final nod – I wanted to tell him everything – unleash the truth on him and tell him to help me. But I didn't say anything. I kept my quiet mouth shut like usual, and my situation only got worse. I left the flying vehicle at my stop, bracing myself for whatever I would receive at home and trying to remind myself that Warren was the sole proof that someone out there enjoyed my existence. As I had guessed, the minute I walked in the door I was immediately assaulted by cries and shouts of my name, telling me to fetch a coca-cola from the kitchen and 'get my lazy ass in here'. I bit back a reply, and continued to the living room with the fizzy drink in hand.

Mike sat on the couch, flipping through the channels lazily and enjoying a cigarette whilst my mother tried to keep her eyes open while she looked at me.

"Eleanor," She slurred. "How was school, honey?"

"It was good mom," I placed the coke down on the table in front of Mike and willing him to stay quiet for the time being. "I learned a lot."

"Is'a stupid fuckin' school," Mike drawled, but fortunately did not make a move to get up. "Supers are shit."

I quietly exhaled through my nose, giving myself strength to not make any snark remark back and instead excusing myself to go up to my room, taking a Tylenol from the medicine cabinet on the way. Mike didn't exactly have a reason besides jealousy to hate supers; they had saved him and the rest of mankind from evil many times, so to view them as a nuisance was a bit ridiculous when there were worse people out there to hate. I tried not to waste any more time thinking about Mike, and instead continued upstairs to my dinky little room – covered in dirty clothing and old rock posters – to finish my homework. I hadn't been assigned a lot in the last week; school wasn't as hard as I thought it was going to be and I was a fairly independent learner, so I wasn't struggling as much as I thought I would have. Math and English came to me very easily, and all of the other super classes were fine to catch on to, so I was glad that I wouldn't need any assistance this year. In the education retrospect, obviously.

Upon finishing my schoolwork I looked around and decided that it would most likely be a good idea to head to the laundromat – I had some extra change leftover and wanted to get my clothing cleaned before school tomorrow, so I loaded as much as I could into my laundry bag and struggled to get it all the way to the laundromat a couple blocks away. Since it was still relatively early in the day, I didn't have to worry about anything happening to me in the neighborhood, but I realized that an hour later after my clothing was only halfway done drying in the massive dryer, that I would have to walk home alone and in the dark. That was, until, a certain Warren Peace came trotting through the door with a giant bag of laundry on his back as well. I gaped, not expecting to see him after a short period of time and especially not in this neighborhood, but when he spotted me all was explained.

"Eleanor?" He made a face.

"Warren?" I copied his tone. "What are you doing here?"

"Paper Lantern is a couple blocks West," He signaled behind him from where he'd come from. "I drive here sometimes before I go home after my shift – the dirty laundry in my car was piling up."

"No kidding," I smiled, the feeling of safety overcoming me once again. I remembered how he had gotten off a stop before me on the bus, and briefly wondered if I had passed by the Paper Lantern before in my lifetime. "Small world, huh?"

He let a chuckle escape his lips, and I was almost certain that I could see hints of a smile on his face from where I sat swinging my legs on the table. The pain in my stomach had decreased by a good amount since I had gotten home and popped that Tylenol, and I assumed that Warren noticed, because after he had piled all of his laundry into the washer and began the load, he questioned my stomach.

"All better?" He pointed towards my tummy.

"I took a Tylenol," I smiled slightly, the expression not reaching my eyes. I prayed that the questions stopped there, but of course they didn't. "I'm fine."

"You mind telling me what happened?" He leaned on the table, crossing his arms and causing my brain to become slightly distracted as I stared at his arms.

"Uh," I stammered, still unsure if I wanted to explain. "It's woman...stuff."

Warren tilted his head, giving me a 'I smell bullshit' expression and tightening his jaw even further. "I'm not an idiot, Eleanor. I have a mother."

Out of options, I resorted to my last excuse. "I got into a fight."

"With?" Warren didn't buy it, but he seemed to be humoring me by asking.

"I don't know," I lied again. "It was dark and I didn't see their face."

He didn't press the issue any further, besides confirming that my split lip had been from the fight as well. I could tell that he didn't believe me; he was practically teasing me with all of those little looks and shakes of his head, but there was nothing that I could do or that he was going to do at the moment. At times I felt like a coward for not turning Mike in to the police, but I remembered how he was providing money for us, and how if I did rat he would be able to smell it from a mile away and most likely kill me if he found out. Mike was a bad man, and had connections that I didn't want to experience. I wasn't sure if he had killed someone – either directly or indirectly – in the past before, but i wouldn't have been surprised if he had. He had a very manipulative and abusive personality, and I didn't want to be the one holding the end of the stick when one of his little gang friends came after me.

"Eleanor?" Warren broke me out of my thoughts, as I hadn't realized I had been staring into space until now.

"Sorry?"

"I asked if you needed a ride home," He repeated himself. "It's dark and you're tiny – I wouldn't want you to get jumped."

I thought a minute before responding, careful because of the fact that if I was spotted by Mike or my mother, there would be hell to pay when I got inside. There was also the simple fact that they were louder than the entire neighborhood, so Warren would definitely be able to hear them in the car. But despite all this, I realized that I would much rather choose a ride home in the car with Warren instead of possibly being jumped and robbed of pretty much the only possessions I had left. So I accepted the ride, praying to the skies (for what seemed like the millionth time that week) that perhaps both my mother and stepfather were passed out cold by now.

We waited for his laundry to dry mainly in silence – I was used to it by now with him and had always been a quiet kid anyway – and then sat ourselves in his black Honda Civic with our bags of clean clothing in the back. It was nice; the smell of clean clothing trumped a lot of other things besides pizza and fresh coffee and made me think of nicer times. I let my driver know my address, hoping that he wouldn't judge me too hard based on the neighborhood that I lived in nor the kind of house that I owned...I couldn't even call it a house anymore; it was a piece of shit barely standing up and looked run down no matter which angle you tried to see it from. Upon approaching the house – the ride was unfortunately short – there were screams and shouts coming from inside. I almost gave myself away by paling, but hid my nausea at the last moment.

"It's our neighbors," I lied, hurriedly jumping out of the car with my laundry before he could say anything else. "They're nuts."

"No," He followed me out and grabbed my arm, pointing to my house that had my address clearly stamped by the front door. "That sounds like it's coming from right there."

"Well it's not," I snapped, tears building up in my eyes. I didn't want him to find out – I didn't want anyone to find out. "Thanks for the ride."

"Eleanor!" He tugged at my arm again as I tried to run off. "Please."

"No – please Warren!" I slumped, nearly giving up but depending on my last brick wall to defend me. "I'm fine – don't worry about me."

He shook his head and breathed heavily, clenching his fists as to not get angry like he did with Will. I backed a step away, afraid of him for a moment, before remembering what he had said to me and that he was my friend. We didn't share any words as I simply stood there staring at him and his internal frustration; I didn't know how he felt and I could only imagine that he wanted to help, but I didn't need help. I was going to turn Mike in on my own terms when I wanted to. As of right now things were too complicated; I didn't want to end up in foster care because my mother was too incapable of taking care of me, and I didn't want one of Mike's old goony friends to come back and bite me in the ass. It was too risky, despite the fact that I couldn't even make a phone call in the house without being berated or beaten. It was hell, but I wasn't going to risk the consequences of escaping the confines of it.

"If someone..." Warren placed a hand on his forehead. "If someone is hurting you Eleanor..."

He paused and gulped silently after the silent threat had been made, visibly trying to contain his rage. No more words were shared, but he merely shook his head as if he was unable to accept the reality of what his anger would let him do to my offender. From the look on his face, it took every ounce of his willpower to get back in his own car without saying or doing anything else and driving off. I was left alone, feeling very abandoned – for a reason that was completely my own – and finished. Like a balloon you found three days after a party behind your couch; all deflated and out of oxygen. Or like a soggy piece of bread that you couldn't reuse or put back in the fridge, because it was just wrong and nasty in a lot of different ways. I felt horrible, and whilst my gut knew what the right thing to do was, my mind was whispering all sorts of little things that made a lot of sense to me at the time being. I was the most conflicting person I knew, so I dragged my little conflicting ass back into my horrible home where the screaming match was still going on, and practically succumbed myself to the violence inside.

It was hell, and I wasn't ready to leave it.