A/N: Warning: this chapter contains torture and threats of rape.
And where, where are you going:
"I don't understand," Malia admits, frustrated. "Why is math so hard?"
"It's not exactly something most people use in everyday life," Scott tells her reassuringly.
"Especially, you know, as a coyote," Stiles adds.
Malia scowls at the reference to her preferred state and hands Scott's Trigonometry textbook back to him, looking discouraged.
It's December now, and a week and a half before finals. You're all sitting around Lydia's enormous living room trying to study, and you're kind of annoyed that Scott is spending more time helping Malia with her homework from her tutor than focusing on his own studying. Malia shouldn't even be here actually, except her father apparently decided that she needs to start at Beacon Hills High next semester, and she has to prepare for the placement test. You suppose you should just be glad he's stopped threatening to send her to a mental hospital if she doesn't behave suitably human. Because he's terrible.
"And it's not just math, it's in science too," Malia complains, glaring down at her papers on her lap. "I don't see how that's fair."
"There's less in biology," Lydia points out from her place in the white armchair next to the fireplace. "Speaking of, did you take your pill today?"
Stiles goes rigid on Scott's other side on the couch, and Scott conveniently decides that this is the perfect time to check his email on his phone.
Malia scrunches up her expression. "I think so. I forget."
Lydia gives her an annoyed look. "You have to take it at the same time every day or it's not going to work."
"Also if you're screwing Stiles, you really want to make sure you take them," Erica says from her seat in the floor next to Boyd, who looks just as excited about this conversation as you are.
"Ugh, don't even talk about that," Isaac says in disgust, sitting up from the foot of the couch where he was leaning his head on your left knee to glare at Erica.
"I'm not screwing him," Malia tells Erica matter-of-factly. "Yet."
"Okay, who wants some drinks!" Stiles says, shooting to his feet, face an impressive mauve.
Scott looks up from his phone, which he has been determinedly staring at the past minute. "I'll have an orange juice," he says.
"Water," Malia says easily, oblivious to Stiles's discomfort.
"Do you have Coke?" Isaac asks Lydia.
"Have I had it the last twelve times you've asked?" Lydia replies, annoyed.
Isaac scowls and crosses his arms over his chest.
"You could just say no, you know," Erica says testily, while Stiles flees to the other end of the house, hopefully to not make a mess of Lydia's kitchen. "Your default doesn't have to be heartless bitch, you know."
"Erica," Scott says, frowning at her reprovingly.
"You make it sound like it's not a conscious choice," Isaac scoffs, smirking nastily at Lydia.
"Am I supposed to be hurt by that?" Lydia asks mockingly. "Please, grow up."
"You're the one who can't answer a simple question without insulting people!" Erica shoots back, and Boyd sighs, leaning back from his notebook to give you a mournful look that clearly states why are we attracted to annoying blond people?
"Okay, why don't we..." Scott starts beseechingly.
"If you have a problem then get out of my house," Lydia says with a disdainful sniff, looking back down at her phone.
"Yeah, 'cause we all really want to be here right now," Isaac responds with an eyeroll, winding his stupid gray scarf around his neck.
You shrug helplessly at Boyd. We have terrible taste.
They snipe at each other some more until Scott finally puts his foot down, but you're just glad you've moved away from the awkward birth control conversation.
Upon discovering that once she was no longer at near starvation weight she would start bleeding from the vagina once a month, Malia became even less interested in being human and decided she wanted to be a coyote again. Fortunately, Erica intervened, sharing the fact that she doesn't have periods on the birth control pill she's on, and managed to convince her not to completely give up on the whole human thing. Unfortunately, for you, at least, during this whole debacle Lydia offhandedly mentioned your Nuvo Ring, which neither Isaac nor Scott knew about. Scott didn't really care, but Isaac got all pissed, first that you didn't tell him, and second that you didn't want to have sex without condoms. You were both mad at each other then, until Scott convinced Isaac that he was being an asshole, but the whole thing was extremely uncomfortable, and you don't like being reminded of it.
"Okay, I think we're done for now," Scott says an hour later, trying not to blush obviously at the third time Isaac has oh so casually leaned up against him in the guise up looking over his shoulder at his English book.
Isaac ducks his head to hide the smirk of triumph which always means one of them is going to end up bent over Scott's desk before the night is over.
But as pretty a mental picture that makes, unfortunately you promised your parents you'd be home for dinner tonight, so you say your goodbyes and head home.
The house is dark when you get home, and you figure that your parents went out for some last minute grocery shopping before dinner. You drop your purse in your room and consider taking a shower, but change your mind decide to raid the freezer for some ice cream instead. You've almost lost all the weight, you can have ice cream once and a while.
You shouldn't have changed your mind. You shouldn't have come back down the stairs. You shouldn't have gone into the kitchen. But you did.
"Hello, Allison," a short woman says in slightly accented English. She's leaning against your kitchen counter next to the microwave. Across from her are two large men in dark jackets, standing over your parents, gagged and tied to the chairs of your kitchen table.
Your father makes a furious noise and struggles against his bonds, eyes panicked even in the dim light from your back porch. You stare at him and your mother, heart pounding rapidly in your ears.
What is this? you think. What is...this cannot be happening.
"We have a couple questions for you," the woman says, stepping forward and your head jerks in her direction. You stare at her blankly, unable to comprehend how exactly she is in your house. And she look...she looks familiar. "Why don't you sit down?"
Where do you know her from? you wonder. Why is she in your house? Why does she have your parents tied to-!
One of the men suddenly lashes out, grabbing you by the arm and dragging you over to the kitchen table. He pulls out a chair away from the kitchen table into the middle of the room, and shoves you into it, so hard you almost topple over.
"Now this can go easy," the woman says very calmly, stepping forward to stand directly in front of you. "Or this can go hard." She crouches down a little in front of you so that your faces are level and you recognize the hard look in her eyes. She's one of the Mexican hunters that came for Gerard's funeral. The Calaveras? "Where is the True Alpha?"
You stare at her in horror, shock bleeding away into pure terror. Your entire body feels hot, your heart beating furiously in your chest. She know. She knows. How could she, who told her, why does she have your parent tied to chai-
She snaps her fingers right in front of your face, shocking you out of your panicked thoughts. "Where is the True Alpha, huh?" she repeats harshly, looking at you in disgust. "I'm only going to ask you one more time and then we go hard." She gestures at her two men. "Where is he? Who is he?"
Why are you doing this? you think, eyes welling up with tears, breathing heavily. The sound is very loud in the dark room and it doesn't relieve the panicked knot in your chest at all. Why do you want Scott? Please don't hurt me, please don't, please don't, please don't.
You say nothing.
"Oh, mija," the woman says mockingly as your breaths become shorter and more panicked. "You should really respond when someone asks you a question."
She slaps you, hard, hard enough that your head swivels to the right and white hot pain laces down your cheek.
You look back at her in shock and she slaps you two more times in quick succession
You feel dizzy, stupidly, your cheek burning, but your breath has evened out.
"Where is the True Alpha?" she repeats, looking at you disdainfully. "Come on now, Allison, this is only going to get harder."
Her two men shift next to your parents, who are struggling furiously against their bonds to no avail. You don't dare look at their faces.
She's going to torture you, you realize. She's going to hit you, punch you, break your bones, rip off your fingernails, burn you, cut you, anything if you don't give her Scott. You start breathing panicky again, gripping the arms of the chairs tightly because this can't be happening to you. You can't be here, this is a nightmare, Allison, wake up, please, wake up, oh God, no, you can't do this, you don't want to hurt, you don't want to die-
"Alright, take her," the woman says in annoyance, stepping back.
The two men reach for you and you scramble out of the chair even though you know it's hopeless. One of them shoves you back in and the other punches you in the jaw, sending the chair crashing back into the marble counter and the back of your head with it.
Someone says something, but you can't hear it over your own sobs of pain, and you shriek with fear as hands grab you and ropes are wrapped around your forearms, securing you to your chair.
You look up with unfocused eyes at the woman's cruel expression as she observes you and only then taste the blood welling up in your mouth, your jaw in the worst pain you've ever felt, worse even than when you broke your arm when you were twelve.
"Where is the True Alpha?" she repeats, crossing her arms over her chest imperiously.
In the movies, this is the part where you'd spit blood in her face, swear furiously that you'd never tell her, that she could do whatever she wanted to you, but you would never betray his trust.
You're too terrified to do that, arms shaking helplessly and you pull against the ropes, too scared even to cry.
"Where is he, huh?" she says, reaching forward to grab your jaw. You cry out in pain at her grip and struggle to get away, but she's stronger than she looks.
Don't say a word, you think, eyes fixing on your mother's coffee maker on the far side of the counter. Don't say a word, Allison, not one thing. If you start talking you might not be able to stop, so just don't say anything. You are not allowed to say anything. No matter what they do, how they hurt you, you cannot give them Scott. They will kill him. They might not kill you.
She lets you go and glares down at you, clearly expecting an answer.
You look down at the floor, trying to get a hold of yourself and take a deep breath, closing your eyes. Not a word, you think, trying to calm yourself. Not a word.
You open your eyes and continue to take deep calming breaths, eyes front and aimed at nothing in particular. You say nothing.
The woman's face contorts in rage and she only has to raise her hand and split second later one of her men, the shorter one with the buzzcut, punches you right in the nose.
You hear it crack and you scream with pain, almost over balancing in your seat. Hot blood pours down your face and neck and you sag in your seat, sobbing in fear and pain, because oh, God, you can't do this, you can't, you can't, you can't-
He hits you again, this time in the jaw again, and you grip the arms of the chairs to brace yourself, willing yourself to just pass out, just make it stop.
There's a muffled yelling from your parents when your ears stop ringing and you hear the woman say something in Spanish.
You look up dazedly to see the gags being ripped off your parents' faces, so white against their surroundings and they choke for air.
"Araya, stop this!" your father gasps, looking at you with such pain on his face he's almost unrecognizable. "I told you she doesn't know anything!"
"And I told you you were mistaken," Araya replies, like a mother chastening her wayward child.
"You let her go," your mother snarls, her jaw so tight you're surprised she can speak at all. "You let her go and you run, because I'm going to kill you. You let her go, don't you dare touch my daughter, you filthy animals!"
Araya jerks her head in your direction and her other henchmen uppercuts you in the stomach. You pitch forward, choking in pain, unable to get air in your lungs, and the floor spins beneath you, blood dripping down your nose and splattering onto the tile.
You hear yelling and screaming, but you can't make out the words. Are they going to kill you if you don't tell them? you wonder in the small part of your brain not overwhelmed by pain. Are they going to kill you in front of your parents, oh, God, you don't want to die, you don't want to do this. Stop, you think, gasping for breath, please, stop, I can't, please don't. A piece of a tooth falls out of your mouth on your next breath, hitting the tile with a sharp crack.
"Look at your daughter, Christopher," Araya says contemptuously, dragging you upright by your hair and forcing you to look at them. You close your eyes against the tears that have started streaming down your face, mixing with the blood, but mostly so you don't have to see their fear. "She hasn't said a word since this all started. Not a single word. Armed intruders tie her and her parents up, beat her, speaking of alphas and werewolves and she hasn't said a single word. Look, even now, she's not confused, not asking questions, not begging for her life." She throws you back into the chair and you can't stop the sob that escapes your bloody mouth. "Look at her! All this time, under your own roof, and you never realized? How pathetic."
Another blow to your stomach and your father screams. "Araya, stop, leave her alone, I'm begging you!"
"Where is the True Alpha?" Araya repeats.
No, no, no, no,no, you think, forcing yourself to look down at your broken tooth on the floor. Not a word, Allison, not a word, not a word, not a word, notawordnotawordnotaword-
"Severo, break her fingers," Araya says sharply, and you snap your head up to protest, but it's too late, because the taller one with the mustache holds down your right forearm and snaps your pointer finger backwards.
You scream in pain and lurch out of your seat, causing the chair to tip, but the other man grabs it and holds it in place.
"Araya!" your mother shouts. "Don't you touch her, don't you touch her!"
You sag in your seat and sob, pain lancing up your arm. A crash startles you and you look up to see that your father has caused his chair to unbalance in his bid to escape, face contorted in rage.
Araya says something in Spanish and the shorter man rights him.
"You stupid man," Araya says dispassionately. "You have no idea who she is, do you? What she's done. She has betrayed you in every way imaginable, dishonored her family. Murdered your father."
Despite the pain you're in, her words still manage to chill you and you look up at her automatically in horror.
"What?" your father says harshly, looking at Araya in bewilderment. "What are you talking about? You're crazy!"
"She's insane!" your mother spits, shaking with rage, though she's more composed than your father. "You're pathetic, Araya! If you want us then fine, but leave my daughter out of it!"
"Look at her!" Araya demands loudly, pointing at you with a jab of her finger. "Look at her face. She's not even denying it!"
Your parents look, disbelief all over their faces and you feel your face contort in a sob and you close your eyes, unable to bear their gaze.
"You never could figure out who killed your father," Araya says harshly. "None of it made any sense. Who would have come to your town with a sniper rifle to shoot him from a rooftop while you fought wolves? A hunter? No, that is not our way. The answer has been under your roof the whole time!"
The taller man emphasizes her point with a backhand to the face, sending you crashing over onto the floor.
"ARAYA!" your father shouts furiously as you try to curl up in a ball on the floor. Everything hurts. Why does it hurt? You don't want to do this anymore, you can't, you want to be strong, but you can't, you're not, you're so afraid-
You're dragged up again and a hand clamps around your middle finger before you can even struggle.
When he snaps it it hurts just as much, but you don't have the energy to scream anymore, just writhe silently in pain.
"NO!" your mother screams. "NO! Allison! Stop it, don't you touch her!"
"I'm going to kill you!" your father shouts at the same time. "You leave her alone, you leave her alone right n-"
Araya says something in Spanish again and then the gags come out again. You watch dazedly, horrified somehow, despite all you've been through tonight, as your parents are forced into submission and silenced.
"There we go," Araya says with a cold smile, looking at your parents pleasantly. "Much better."
They both let out muffled sounds of rage behind the gags, tears pooling in their eyes and you're so tired you close your eyes and try to pretend that there's a way out of this, as long as you hold on long enough. It doesn't work. You're going to die, you're going to die, you're going to die...
"It's really quite a pity," Araya says, turning back to you. "You're very brave. You've certainly raised a strong one here, Christopher. Only you should have made sure she ended up on the right side. This is what happens when you lie to your children." She crouches down in front of you to look at her face and you want to vomit at the admiring look on her face. "You could have been something, mija. Like your aunt, but with far more self-control. It is really quite a pity that it's come to this. But you are going to tell me who the True Alpha is."
I won't, you think, desperate to convince yourself of it. I won't, I won't.
"I could have them hit you some more, but eventually you'll pass out and I really don't have time for that now," she continues, looking at you speculatively. "What if I had them rape you? Would you talk then?"
You whimper with fear and push yourself back in your seat as far as you can go. Your eyes dart up automatically to Araya's men, both of whom are looking down at Araya in disgust, and you feel yourself begin to hyperventilate. No, no, no, you can't, you think, pressing your knees together and trying to melt back into the seat, no, no, no please.
"Shhh," she says gently and reaches out to unbutton your blue checkered shirt. Tears pour down your cheeks and you let out a broken sob, futilely trying to break free of your bonds. Distantly, you hear your parents screaming behind their gags and rattling around in their chairs, but you can't think about anything past the cold air on your increasingly exposed skin.
"There," Araya says, pushing your shirt down your shoulders and looks at you expectantly. "This is your last chance. Where is the True Alpha?"
No, God, oh, please, oh, please, don't, you think, shaking with fear, but it won't do any good, you know that. You know that. You shut your eyes and bite your lip, even though it hurts. There is nothing you can do. This is happening. Don't say a word, don't say a word, just go something else, Allison, that's all you can do, you don't have a choice anymore.
You feel like you're going to vomit, your entire body hurts, your face, your stomach, your finger, and now they are going to rape you, both of them, and you don't have a choice. You can't get out of here this is happening, you have no choi-
"Where is he?" Araya shouts, reaching forward, and rips your bra off, the metal hooks scrapping your sides harshly.
You let go out a sob and hunch over as far as you can, squeezing your eyes shut. Don't think, don't think, don't think, don't say a word, this is happening, this has already happened, it doesn't matter, go somewhere else, just go somewhere else, this is the way this has to be, you don't have a choice. You grip the arms of the chair and utter a soft cry of pain as you move your broken fingers. Don't think, don't think, don't think.
"Tch," Araya says, straightening. "You're stronger than you look, mija, I'll give you that."
Don't look, you tell yourself, staring down at the floor. Don't look, Allison, don't you dare look.
It's done, you tell yourself, it's already done, but you can't stop yourself from gasping for breath and squeezing your thighs together, as close as they can go.
"It really is a pity," Araya says, rustling something together, but you don't look up until you hear the cock of a gun.
"So we're going to do it this way," Araya says, holding the barrel of the gun inches away from your father's forehead. "Now one more time: Where is the True Alpha?"
This isn't supposed to happen, you think as you stare at your father's shocked expression, the absolute terror in your mother's eyes. This isn't supposed to, why is she-
"Allison," she says impatiently, clenching her teeth. "Do you want me to kill your father?" She turns the gun on your mother. "Or your mother?"
You open your mouth, to say what you don't know, beg for mercy maybe, and then the backdoor that leads to the patio bursts open in an explosion of broken glass.
A dark figure lands on the carpet of your family room and straightens, red eyes glowing brightly in the dark.
Scott, you think desperately, relief soaring through you. Scott. He's here to save you, to stop them.
Scott takes one look at you, and then swivels to face the hunters, expression dark with rage. He roars in fury and lashes out at the shorter hunter, throwing him into the wall so hard the plaster breaks. The one with the mustache draws his gun, but before he can aim it at Scott there's a crash from the front hall. A second later Derek Hale comes barreling down the hall into the kitchen, claws and fangs extended. The hunter shoots, but misses and Derek throws him into the kitchen sink. Araya fires at Scott, hitting him in the shoulder, but before she can fire again, she's punched in the face by Cora.
"Stay down," she hisses, kicking her fallen gun across the room.
Someone grabs your arm and you jerk away automatically, but it's just Isaac, ripping away your bonds with his claws.
"Allison," he gasps, white as a sheet, crouching in front of you, and reaching out to touch the side of your face with the pads of his fingers.
Are you really here? you wonder dazedly, unable to process what's happening, everything is going too fast, you don't understand-
"Allison!" he says when you don't respond, terrified and desperate. His eyes skate over your bloody half-naked form, and he lets out a piteous whimper, stripping off his denim jacket with difficulty, his hands shaking violently. He wraps it around you carefully and zips it up, your arms secured inside instead of sticking through the arm holes. Over his shoulder you see Scott lunge at Araya, only to be dragged back by Derek at the last second.
"Scott, stop, you need to think," Derek tells him urgently, but Scott shows no signs of listening, struggling inexpertly in his hold.
"Let me go," Scott demands tightly. His face is completely transformed, eyes glowing eerily in the dark, fixed furiously on Araya slumped against your kitchen counter in a steadily increasing pool of water from the broken sink, bleeding slightly from her temple. Her two men are unconscious, and she's completely unarmed, but she still manages to look at Scott without fear.
"So it's you," she says, pushing herself up into a seated position, brow furrowed in disbelief. "You're a child."
"You...You, what did you do-" Scott spits through his fangs, so angry he can barely speak, still trying to fight his way towards her. "How dare you touch her, I'll-"
"Derek, what about them?" Cora interrupts, gesturing to your parents, who are still struggling and glaring at Derek, clearly demanding to be let free.
"Untie them," Derek says shortly, without looking away from Scott. "Scott, get a hold of yourself!"
"What is this?" your father demands the second Cora removes his gag. He looks between Scott and Derek, and Isaac kneeling in front of you. Isaac is touching your forearms, the back of your neck, your left cheek with shaky hands; you can tell he wants to hug you, but is afraid of hurting you.
"Get away from her," your mother orders Isaac, jerking impatiently in her seat as Cora warily frees her.
You turn away from her, crumpling at the reality that they know now, that this is all over. Exhaustion overwhelms you all of the sudden, and you slump forward, leaning your cheek on Isaac's shoulder even though the tiniest movement hurts.
"Allison!" your father chokes, and you hear him scrambling out of his chair. You stiffen and lean further into Isaac, afraid he's going to take you away.
"Back off!" Isaac snarls, wrapping his arms around you carefully in a protective embrace. Your forehead presses up against his neck, right above the collar of his green t-shirt, and you inhale the smell of his deodorant (Scott's) and sweat.
"Wha-get away from my daughter!"
"Oh, no, you don't, you've done enough!" Scott says furiously.
"What are you talking about?" your mother demands, sounding nearly hysterical, and it terrifies you. "Don't you touch her!"
"Of course you don't know," Scott says, disgusted. "No, you don't!" You hear him walk closer to stand in front of Isaac. "You have done enough! Isaac, Cora, take her to the hospital. The rest of you are staying here!"
There is a brief pause, and then your parents both start to protest. They get louder as Isaac lifts you carefully into his arms and you whimper in pain, and you hear something smash on the floor.
"Wait," you say hoarsely as Isaac turns to leave the room, the first words you've spoken since you left Lydia's house a lifetime ago. The sound reminds you of something. "My tooth."
You worm your left hand out of the bottom of the jacket and point back to the small pool of blood below the chair you were tied to.
The entire room goes deathly silent, and then Cora walks over to the chair and bends down to pick up your bloody tooth.
Then Isaac is carrying you down the hallway and there's yelling, but you block it out and press your face harder into Isaac's shoulder.
You don't really remember the ride to the hospital in Derek's car. Isaac tries to talk to you, ask you questions, but it's too much work to understand him, much less answer him. You're so tired.
Then he's bringing you into the hospital and there's bright lights and so many people talking. You try to hide in Isaac's shoulder, but they take you from him to a curtained off bed, and then take off your jacket, examining your purpling abdomen. You space out for a while, very numb even though the painkillers you swallowed can't be taking effect yet. But then they start asking you questions, about the police, about Isaac, if you're afraid of him, and you don't want to talk, you want them to stop. You vomit all over one nurse's shoes when she asks if you want them to get a rape kit.
They stop asking you questions then.
Some time later, you're not sure how long, you're alone, staring up at the hospital ceiling, listening to the bustle of the hospital unseen beyond the curtain. They put something on your nose, gauze in your mouth, and wrapped up your broken fingers. You're wearing a white hospital gown, which you don't remember them putting on you, but thankfully they didn't take your pants. They're wet, though. You must have wet yourself somewhere in the middle of...it.
You sit up, wincing at the strain on your stomach, but it's muted a bit. You carefully swing your legs off the bed, shuddering as your bare feet touch the cold floor.
Every instinct screams at you to curl back into bed and hide under the covers, but you know you aren't safe here.
You limp towards the curtain and push it aside to see a large room full of other beds, nurses and doctors darting quickly from patient to patient.
"Miss," a nurse with short blonde hair says when you head for the door. "Miss, you need to get back in bed."
"Where's my boyfriend?" you ask awkwardly through the cotton in your mouth.
Something in her expression tightens. "I don't know, but please get back into bed. Someone will be with you shortly to take you to get some x-rays."
"Is Melissa McCall here?" you ask next, panic starting to rise up in your chest.
She gives an odd look. "No, she's not working tonight. Now please get back into bed."
"Can I see my boyfriend?" you ask her shakily, starting to feel lost.
"It's family only right now," she tells you firmly, steering you back to your bed. "I think Emily went to talk to your parents, so they should be here soon."
Emily! Emily Doroshenko?
You let her tuck you back in bed, heart beating a brutal tattoo in your chest. You wait until she leaves and then get out of bed, spitting out the gauze, and peek outside the curtain to see if anyone's watching before you make your escape.
You have to get out of here. It isn't safe.
The hallway is full of hospital staff, so you duck quickly into one of the private room across the hall.
It's occupied, but the elderly black woman in the bed just stares at you blankly as you cross her room to get to the window.
It opens, but there's a screen over it that you have to punch through with your left hand, and then you climb painfully through it and land in the bushes five feet below.
Your entire body screams in protest, but you force yourself to your feet, knowing you don't have much time.
You extricate yourself from the bushes, and walk into the parking lot without any idea of where you're going. It's freezing, and you know you have to get away from people before someone spots your hospital gown and starts asking questions.
"Allison?!" a woman says, and you spin around to see Braeden staring at you on the other side of the parking lot, her motorbike helmet in one hand. "What are you doing, are you okay? I just heard..."
She walks over to you, looking you up and down carefully.
"Hi," you say stupidly. "Could you...do you think you could get me out of here?"
She looks very concerned and opens her mouth, but you cut her off.
"I just really," you say, voice trembling pathetically. "I really need to get out of here. My parents are here, and I can't..." Your voice becomes too tight to finish your sentence without sobbing.
"Do they know?" Braeden asks seriously, and you nod shortly, shivering in the cold December air.
"Okay, we need to get you somewhere inside," Braeden says, gesturing back to her bike. "Where do you want to go?"
"Scott's," you say automatically, because you have always been safe at Scott's house. "His mother's a nurse, she should be there right now."
"Okay," Braeden says, looking dubious, but she seems to understand how little time you have and hands you her helmet.
It's only ten minutes to Scott's house from the hospital, but ride there is so painful it feels twice that. You're dizzy when you finally get off the bike and Braeden has to help you to the door.
"Allison!" Scott's mom exclaims when she opens the door. "What happened?! Come inside!"
Braeden helps you to the couch and Melissa examines your bruised face very professionally before looking down at your bandaged fingers.
"I'm fine, they looked me over at the hospital," you mumble. "I just need somewhere to hide."
"From who?" Scott's mom asks, looking between you and Braeden in confusion. "Allison, what happened?"
"My parents," you whisper, closing your eyes against the prick of tears. "I can't see them right now...they know I...they found out-" You gasp for breath as the reality sets in. The worst has come to pass. They know. They know. Oh, God, what are you going to do?
"I'll call Scott," Braeden says quietly. "I'm Braeden, by the way. I'm not sure if Scott's mentioned me."
You don't hear Scott's mom's reply, mind buzzing blankly, and you only snap out of it when Scott's mom helps you to your feet and up the stairs. She takes you to her room, and wraps you up in her blankets, sitting by your side and stroking your hair gently.
You can't sleep. You'd love to, you're so tired, and you want everything to go away, but you keep your eyes fixed on the door while Scott's mom soothes you.
Time passes. Scott's mom stays. You try not to think.
The door downstairs opens and you bolt upright, a whimper of pain tearing itself out of your mouth without your permission. Is it the hunters? Your parents?
"Allison?!" Scott calls desperately, and you clap your hands over your mouth quickly, whimpering.
"Up here, Scott!" his mom calls, but Scott is already thundering up the stairs.
"Allison," he gasps tearfully, bursting into the room with Isaac on his heels. He sits down on at the foot of the bed and reaches out to clutch your shoulders. "How...are you-"
You reach out to touch his sides and lean your bruised face against the side of his. His hands jump up, but then freeze, uncertain if he should touch you.
"I'm okay," you tell him, even though you're really, really not.
Isaac sits down next to you and presses his face into your neck, shaking violently. His eyes are wet and he sniffs audibly.
"You should've told them, Allison," Scott says, a sob in his voice. He reaches up to clutch at the back of your neck, pulling your loose hair slightly with his sweaty palm. "You should've just told them, why did you-"
"So they could come and kill you?" you murmur, even as you realize it doesn't matter. The secret's out now.
Scott sobs, body jolting suddenly. "Don't, oh God, Allison, don't, you shouldn't have..."
Stop, you think, squeezing your eyes shut, stop, stop, stop. You pull away from him and Isaac, who had started crying quietly in your hair.
"I need to-" you say, and then your voice cracks, a sob welling up in your throat. You close your eyes and take several deep breaths before continuing. "I need to lie down."
"Do you want me to get you anything?" Scott's mom asks gently, peering down at your face behind a curtain of wild hair. "Water? Some tea?"
Wine, you think. Red wine. I want to be drunk right now. It would probably make you feel better, relax you.
"Water," you croak, because your mouth tastes terrible from throwing up.
She leaves, and you lie back down on the bed, taking calming breaths. Scott and Isaac both stare at you, and you can't stand it. Why are they looking at you like that? You want them to stop, you want to hide.
You start to panic, gasping for breath. Oh, God, your parents know, you can't do this, you can't feel like this any longer, you want to forget, you want to di-
"Allison, Allison, breathe," Scott says, coming to lie down beside you, clutching your shoulder.
"I can't do this," you gasp, tears filling your eyes. "What am I going to do? I can't live with them anymore. She told them about Gerard, I can't, I can't-"
"Allison, it's going to be okay, I promise, I won't let anything bad happen to you," Scott says, sounding seconds away from shattering. Isaac just clings to your side, shaking like mad.
"I couldn't do anything," you sob, bringing your hands up to cover your face. "I couldn't...she wouldn't stop, they just kept hitting me, I thought I was g-going to die!"
"Allison, it's okay, you're safe now, I promise," Scott says desperately, clutching your shoulder harder.
But it's not okay and it never will be. This will always have happened to you. You will have to remember it the rest of your life, remember being tied to chair, beaten, tortured, stripped, threatened with rape. You cannot erase this from your life. You will never be the same.
"Here, here," Scott says tremulously, you blink slowly as the tightness in your chest fades, and even the dull aches in your stomach, fingers, and face.
"Thanks," you whisper, and roll onto your side facing Isaac, dragging Scott's arm over your waist and pulling him forward to spoon you. Isaac, eyes red and swollen with tears, curl closer to you and continues to sob almost silently into your neck.
"It's going to be okay," Scott swears shakily, pulling the blankets up over you and pressing himself against your back with an arm around your waist. "I promise. They're locked up now. I won't let them hurt you again."
You say nothing, wrapping your arms around Isaac's body and pulling him closer.
The clock on Scott's mom's bedside table reads 8:59.
A/N: Ugh, I really did not like this chapter. Weirdly enough, I was fine writing it, but then going back editing it I was pretty disturbed. I really don't like how a lot of media downplays how traumatizing stuff that happens to their characters is, and I guess this is the result. Please review?