Chapter 35: Residual Trauma

A/N: Now for the moment, you've all been waiting for since Chapter 6 lol. Consider this chapter the light teaser for all the messed up and unexpected mess that's going to unfold in the later chapters. I hope this answers a lot of questions about the reader's/OC past trauma.


Sunday started off light, with breakfast followed by knocking out the last few assignments you couldn't finish the day before. It was now mid afternoon and the day seemed like it had already come and gone. At this point, you just wanted to go home and spend the remainder of the day, in preparation for the upcoming week.

Most favorably, it was one of the very few days where the temperature had reached into the low fifties, a truly fortunate circumstance considering how cold New York could be. Because of this you took it upon yourself to pick up a few items from the store while it was on your mind. Once that was done, you needed to go by your apartment.

Somehow, you wound up at your parents house, rummaging through their fridge like you owned and bought everything in it. You can't really explain how a quick trip to the other side of town had turned into you sliding to your parents house to bother them beforehand.

Your great grandmother is sitting at the kitchen table fiddling with her phone, eyes squinted in deep concentration.

For a fleeting second, you thought about asking if she needed help with the device but you instantly remembered how you were ready to pull your hair out the last time you tried explaining the functions of her phone to her. Like most old folks, she just couldn't get ahead on technology. Your father was in the living room watching the playoffs. He'd barely acknowledged you when you walked in uninvited, not that it surprised you in any way. He couldn't be bothered to do anything but yell at the screen and be angry about his team making the correct plays he wanted.

Pushing aside a container or sour cream and an unopened canister of biscuits. There was nothing you could find that you had a taste for. You immediately opened the freezer for further pulled a small carton of vanilla ice cream before retrieving a small bag of chips from the nearby pantry.

Walking to the table, you took up the seat next to your grandmother.

From the corner of your eye, your grandmother had pulled her attention from her phone and was now watching you eat from under her glasses that were situated lowered on the bridge of her nose. "Baby…you alright?"

"Mmmhhh. Why you ask?"

She takes another look at your food choices, obviously judging them as she knowingly meets your gaze again beneath the glasses at the bridge of her nose before a playful smile spreads across her withered face. "Well sometimes you have to ask."

Naturally, you don't question the look she gives you, you're far too preoccupied indulging in the ice cream.

"It's really good, you want some?" You offer.

The older woman simply waves you away.

In that same moment, your mother walked into the kitchen, bags in both hands. "I know that ain't my ice cream." She said, placing the plastic grocery bags on the counter. He coming in to fuss was usually a greeting in itself.

You knew how stingy she could be about her vanilla ice cream, that's why you used to sneak and eat it and make her blame your father. "Don't be going in my refrigerator eating up all my food."

"Hush up and leave my grandbaby alone. Can't you see that child hungry?" Your grandmother quickly admonishes.

You could appreciate the fact that she will always take up for you in every situation. It didn't matter if you were in the wrong or not.

Your mother put her hands on her hips. "She got food at her apartment."

"How do you know?" You asked, popping another pineapple slice in your mouth.

Truthfully, you can barely recall the last time you'd been at your neglected place of residence. It was highly likely that you needed to throw out every food item in your refrigerator.

"All you do is eat. I know you ain't running out of food any time soon and if you do, that doesn't mean come over here and tear up our kitchen. Your daddy wants some smothered chicken tonight and I don't want nobody else in here after I cook."

"I won't be in the kitchen. I'll just get my plate and leave." You shrugged.

The woman turned to pull the food items from the bags. "Mmmhhh…you need to quit all that eating anyway, your face is starting to get round. Once you put it on, it's hard to get off."

Your mother's bluntness wasn't so shocking to you, in fact, it's the kind of thing you grew up on. Majority of your family members, particularly the older women, didn't hesitate to comment when it came to mentioning any weight gain. It was bound to be brought up sooner by someone or later and you can't act like you haven't been going in on food lately. Any food within the line of your sight was under threat of getting demolished.

Admittedly, you'd looked in the mirror a few times and acknowledged that you in fact gained some weight in your face and a few areas on your body. Except you never dwelled on it for long, having come to the conclusion that gaining a few pounds was normal and wasn't cause for concern. Having inherited the round hips and ample backside that most of the women in your family had, you guess it's what people call 'happy weight.' If you gained any sort of weight that where you figure it would show up first. While you knew better not to take it as a criticism, the off-hand way she mentioned it had you feeling some type of way. The feeling was strong enough that it made you place the lid back over the ice cream.

"Ain't nothing with putting on a little weight…sometimes it's necessary and sometimes you don't got a choice." Your grandmother added, tapping at the screen. "When your body starts changing you just gotta accept that. I know I did before I knew…"

"Knew what?" You asked curiously.

Just then your father entered the kitchen complaining loudly and irritated about the game. He and your mother soon began their own argument and you watched as your grandmother instigated and played both sides, inadvertently making the argument stretch on longer than it needed to.

John had been gone for the better part of the day and you didn't know when he'd return since he hadn't said as much. He seemed rather preoccupied and you merely chalked it up to him having to handle some business affairs.

Having heard enough, you eventually left your parents house and set out to do what you originally had planned. You were in and out of the store within twenty minutes, a new record for you seeing as how you like to browse for things you wanted but didn't need.

Once you left the store, you made the split decision to stop by the Starbucks next door. Honestly, you could use the caffeine boost to keep you moving throughout the day. It only took one time for you to lay down for you to not get up again. Alexis recommended you try the white chocolate mocha drink and wouldn't stop talking about it when you told her that you weren't that fond of Starbucks to begin with. You'd never been all that crazy about Starbucks but both of your friends acted as if they couldn't live without it sometimes. While you don't do coffee either, your sweet tooth always prevailed in the end.

As you walk in, you can see that you'd managed to catch them at a time where there wasn't much of a line.

The girl working the front counter was friendly and politely asked you where you got your sweater from. From there it turned into a conversation about the most fashionable clothing stores to shop at and which ones were the most affordable. The two of you chatted for a little bit about it and you could tell the people in line behind you were getting restless but you didn't care. The random conversations with strangers every now and then came few and far in-between and always turned out to be the best. While she prepared your drink gave you extra steaming white chocolate just because you complimented her hair. She went on to explain that she wasn't going to attempt the style at first since it was a little out of her comfort zone but was glad that she did.

As she handed you the drink, you mentioned that caffeinated drinks weren't usually your go-to and you didn't go to Starbucks that often. She said she understood and graciously recommended more drinks for you to try.

The aroma of it was thick and fragrant and your stomach practically rolled in delight. The first first sip just about left you with a scalded tongue but it wasn't unpleasant. In fact, there's a bit of a weird aftertaste but you think you like it. With a savory sweetness that rivaled the satisfaction you got from consuming milk chocolate, you found yourself actually liking the taste. You think the drink might become a constant staple in your life from this point forward.

The drink was piping hot and you carefully took small sips of it, not wanting to burn your tongue. Still, you had to drink at random intervals, this eventually led you to take the plastic lid off to blow along the surface to cool it.

While walking down the sidewalk to your parked car, you're in the middle of shooting a text to the group chat when you bumped right into something solid enough to nearly send you tumbling to the pavement. A pair of hands were quick to right you before you actually fell.

Most of the drink's contents had spilled all over your front and you weren't even halfway done with it. Sadly, the layers of your coat and sweater weren't thick enough for you not to feel the hot, sticky beverage on your skin underneath. You could've cried right then and there. But the thought of the resulting embarrassment from crying in public rapidly dried any tears in your eyes.

"Oh my god! I'm so sorry!" The man explained, holding you by the arms to help you regain your balance.

"No it's okay. I wasn't paying attention to where I was going."

By the look of his attire, he likely worked at an office or in a corporate setting.

The man obviously hadn't meant to bump into you and he sounded very genuine in his apology so you can't be mad at him. He didn't let you continue on your way until he made sure you were okay, even offering you money to replace the drink that you politely refused.

When you made it to the car and slid into the seat, you let out a cry of frustration. It wasn't that you were angry, you were just irrationally sad about not getting the chance to fully enjoy the drink you'd bought just five minutes prior. At most, your feelings were hurt and a well spent ten dollars had gone to waste. You just sat there for a minute, staring past the steering wheel while trying to will yourself to not drop a tear.

A vibration from your pocket, snapped you out of the anguish fueled stupor you'd fallen into. Inhaling what you think is a calming breath you answer the call trying not to sound like you normally would.

"Hey."

"Where are you?"

"In town. I had to stop by a few stores and…"

"What's wrong?"

Annoyingly, your lover was inept at picking up on the tone of your voice immediately.

"Nothing…I just…"

"Milaya." His rich baritone hardened, the hint of a warning vaguely present.

You didn't dare ignore it. "Can you come by my apartment? Please?"

"Okay."

That's all you wanted to hear.


As expected, your apartment was virtually neat and appeared untouched since your last visit.

Walking into the bathroom, you started peeling away your clothing until you were only in your bra, grimacing at the sticky wetness still coating a portion of your skin.

With your coat being a neutral color, you were worried about the brown discoloration. Hopefully, the stain didn't set in before you get a chance to wash it. By the looks of it, you'd have to do better than a tide pen. Procuring a bottle of stain remover from the hallway closet, you laid the coat across the sink and sprayed it down before using a sponge to try and blot the stain out.

You were at this for at least twenty minutes before you came to the conclusion that it was the best you could do and that the washer would have to do the rest.

"What the hell."

The pin sized lens was almost completely undetectable. All the blood in your veins chilled as comprehension seized you in an impenetrable hold.

Following a brief inspection, you know what the small item is - it's a tiny camera. A part of you wished it wasn't but the proof was sitting right in the palm of your hand. Given the way it was concealed, it was not meant to be easily discovered - hidden just behind one of your decorative towels on the shelf.

From the look of it, someone had deliberately set up a tiny hidden camera in your bathroom. They'd actually broken into your apartment to set this up with the intent of watching you. If you found one, you had to assume that there had to be more somewhere in the apartment. Rarely do people just install a single camera if their goal was to spy on a person.

Switching on your phone's flashlight, you scrambled to turn off all the other lights in the apartment. Following this, you began a sweep of the apartment, searching for any red glint of a lens wherever it may be. Nowadays hidden cameras could be planted anywhere and disguised as anything. Because of this you mostly looked in places where you knew a camera would be easily planted.

Thoroughly panicked, your mind was instantly catapulted back to the last time you were here, you remember the eerie feeling of being watched and how you believed it wasn't possible. Having to contemplate that someone was actively watching you was terrifying. The whole concept horrified you quite frankly.

In the darkness with only the flashlight as your only source of light, you knocked away all the picture frames on the shelf against the wall. Moving into different rooms, you pointed the flash in various places where you thought a camera lens was potentially present.

A single red dot had originated from one of the electrical sockets plugged into the wall, obviously masquerading as a charger port for a phone. You'd noticed it during the last time you came but merely thought that one of your friends left it since it's happened many times before. Perhaps most appalling of all, you're shocked to find one in your bedroom positioned right above your bed, hidden well in the crevice of the ceiling fan.

The heart palpitations were so intense that you felt dizzy. You couldn't think. The hand holding the phone began to shake uncontrollably.

A sudden knock at the door drew you out of your thoughts and you raced to it thinking you knew who was on the other side. "John…I-"

All the air seemed to vacate your lungs just as swiftly as it entered as you found yourself staring into the face of your landlord.

Up until now, you were sure that you were nearly hyperventilating.

"Hey um…is everything okay?" He inquired, obviously concerned.

Something about it wasn't right. The timing seemed off and he didn't have a valid reason to be at your door right now.

"I…I um…" You were breathless in your answer, struggling to find the right words.

"I noticed you haven't been staying here in a while so I just thought I'd check up on you."

In a moment of realization, a cold sweat broke out over your skin and as it dawned on you. Who else had access to your apartment other than you? Every muscle in your body had become rigid and you were suddenly very hyper aware of everything happening around you.

"How do you know I haven't been home?"

The look on his face at your response had already given him away and he wasn't even aware of it.

At this point, you'd given up on masking the fear you felt, by now it practically showed all over your face. Feeling faint, you found it entirely too hard to breathe.

Securing the door with both hands, you attempted to hastily slam it closed as fast as possible to bar him out. The man pushed against the hard surface with all his might to prevent you from shutting him out. Gritting your teeth, you continued shoving despite knowing that you were slowly losing the fight. The shoving match came to an abrupt end when he used his body mass to bypass the door and barge completely into the apartment.

"Wait. Please…just let me explain." He begged, trying not to appear like he was not attempting to corner you.

Your stomach sank in alarming fashion and you began to back away as he reacted back shut the door behind him. Successfully, trapping you in a space with him. Your heart started beating so fast you thought it would give out at any second.

"Get out!" You shouted, body going straight into survival mode.

Not being left with any other option but to fight or run, you chose the latter. As expected, he immediately gave chase. Jumping over the various furniture in the living room that acted as an obstacle to get to you, you were able to outmaneuver him with just your speed.

In your haste to get away from him, you picked up a lamp from the nearby table and hurled it at him. As luck would have it, you'd hit him directly in the head with a well paced aim, sending tiny glass fragments flying. He grunted but it didn't deter him for long.

With things transpiring too quick for your mind to think logically, you didn't know where to run. All you knew was that you needed to get away from him. Shockingly, you weren't able to move fast enough and the chase ended when he managed to use his body to virtually tackle you to the hard surface of the floor. The painful impact radiated throughout your hip. It took a few seconds for you to brush off the pain and begin trying to buck him off.

Considering that the landlord was a larger man, it took no time for him to overpower and subdue you on the floor and his heavy brusque frame soon straddled your smaller one. He fought to secure your flailing limbs, finding little success implementing his tactic because of your frenzied efforts. For a sickening moment, you thought he meant to rape you and it chilled you down the bone. With him being on the heavier side, there were doubts that you could physically fight him off.

Those suspicions were affirmed when large restricting hands clasped around your throat, squeezing and efficiently cutting off your air flow. Only a few ragged whimpers and cries managed to escape your throat before it was harshly cut off. Right away, the terrifying realization that you were unable to breathe became alarmingly apparent. You were left gasping at nothing.

Wide eyed and scared out of your mind, you stared directly into his eyes, finding little emotion in them as he spoke.

"I really liked you…if you'd just given me a chance." He calmly expressed. His eyes were eerily determined on going through with what he was doing to you, the unquestionable intent vaguely discernible.

Was he out of his mind? He had to be.

That's the only explanation to why this was even taking place. There was no way he could think he ever had a chance to be with you after you already expressed that you weren't interested. There was nothing he could say - nothing he could do to make this remotely justifiable.

Frightened by his words and desperate to escape his grasp, you began to claw wildly along his face, hands, and arms. Throwing in a few punches, you tried frantically to wiggle out from under him to escape but unfortunately your actions only made him intensify his violent efforts, feeling his palms closing tighter around your esophagus. The increasing external pressure around your neck caused spots to dance along your murky vision. Eventually, your struggles ceased completely as you were too weak to continue fighting.

Frantic, you tried uselessly to pry his hands off your neck to no avail and it seemed to go on for an eternity as you slowly began to lose consciousness. Your rapidly slowing pulse was loud despite the ringing in your ears and your vision faded completely out. It was jarring to see that the same man who'd relentlessly pursued you from the first day you'd moved in was now attempting to strangle you to death like you were nothing.

As all awareness began to slip away from you, the last thing you felt was the weight of the body atop your abruptly disappeared. There was a brief moment of nothingness where the vice grip wasn't there anymore and air suddenly began to flood into your lungs. Head pounding and spinning violently, the compulsion to vomit suddenly became nauseatingly overwhelming. You'd never felt so close to death than you did moments ago.

Weakly inclining your head to the side, you were completely taken off guard by the sight of your lover carelessly dropping a heavy item to the floor. Going by your blurry sight, it appeared to be the fire extinguisher from the glass display in the complex hallway. John had burst through the door and struck the other man with it.

From your weakened position, you watched as the two figures engaged in a violent struggle, although it was more of a one-sided brawl seeing as how only one of them had the upper hand. It didn't take long for your lover to have the bloodied man pinned against the hard floor, both of his own hands coming to wrap around the man's bulging neck.

Disoriented and confused, a belated second passed before you were able to move, pulling yourself up from the floor, the pounding in your head still debilitating.

Much like yourself, the man was flailing about, trying to find some kind of way to breathe. You know all too well how petrifying it had to be not being able to breathe and he was experiencing that in full at the moment.

The look etched onto your lover's face was deeply unnerving. There wasn't any conscience in your lover's eyes. There was only detached contemptuous, barely concealed rage. Truthfully, it was one of the most visceral reactions you ever saw from him. He did not look like the kind, attentive man who'd been caring for you all these months. Pure malevolence had encompassed his entire demeanor. Considering that another man had just attempted to strangle you to death, the anger the man felt must be insurmountable. You can see the murderous intent on his features - he wanted this man to die quick and he would have it by his own hand.

You vaguely recalled the words softly uttered to you on the moonlight beach not so long ago.

"It is expressly forbidden to harm civilians."

The statement prompted you to action.

Just bearing witness to everything taking place, the fear and helplessness you felt was swiftly amplified times ten. You had to stop this - you had to stop John before you witnessed something even more horrific.

While a small part of you enjoyed watching the life be squeezed out of him - seeing the light leave his eyes. Maybe then the despicable man would know what it felt like to be helpless and suffocated. It would be well deserved on his part and you couldn't really conjure up a valid reason not to let it play out. There was only one problem and that was the potential repercussions John would face if he actually killed the landlord. Despite the latter being an absolutely reprehensible human being, he was technically still a normal civilian. From what little you know, individuals like John were not allowed to outright murder civilians without impunity. Looking at your lover's cold unfeeling countenance now as he choked the man out, he appeared ready to do just that. You were not choosing to spare him out of mercy but entirely out of concern for John.

"John…" You called to him, worriedly taking note of how the man's face was starting to turn blue from the lack of oxygen. "John…please stop." You pleaded, the sound of your voice painfully coarse and gravelly.

You came forward to wrap your hands around the assassin's forearm.

John's cold, detached eyes were looking intently into your own shocked pair and you stared back unwaveringly. He could see the fear etched into your features and the incessant plea for him to stop.

Gradually, John's hand loosened from around the man's neck, the indent of hand prints in the skin still visible to the naked eye. The hitman slowly rose into a standing position but he did not completely move from his elevated positioning directly over the fallen man. This was likely done for your peace of mind and assurance that the latter would be given the chance to rise again. Despite having been beaten and brutalized, he was still breathing and that was more than he deserved.


After regaining some of your senses and further convincing John not to murder the incapacitated landlord, the police were called. And in spite of your initial reservations about John having an encounter with the law, to your surprise he didn't seem all that bothered to be in the presence of the police given his criminal ties and background. They were in and out of the complex in droves, practically swarming the building, which was appropriate given the circumstances. A matter like this shouldn't be taken lightly.

Nosy neighbors and tenants peeked outside of their blinds to see what was going on and some even stood just outside their doorways. The police lights are way too bright and there's too many bodies in the vicinity. You feel overstimulated by it all.

The EMT's were careful and diligent as they examined you. According to them, you had a few minor cuts and abrasions but the most serious injury seemed to be a large bruise on your hip. But other than that, you were fine.

Well, physically at least. How you felt mentally and emotionally was a whole other story altogether.

You called your friends and parents to let them know what happened and was met with everything from outright shock to rage. Everyone was understandably concerned. No matter how much you said that you were alright, you quite literally had to convince your mother not to come and bring your father who by this point was absolutely furious. You didn't need him here acting a damn fool in front of the authorities and trying to serve his own form of murderous justice. You barely managed to stop John, you couldn't do anything with your father.

Although you outwardly maintained a calm disposition, it disguised how utterly destroyed you were inside. Despite there being a giant rift between your thoughts and emotions, the panic and fear were still very real.

By now, the numbness and detachment had kicked in to keep you functioning since you couldn't much but reign calmness. John, being the reticent man he was known to be, handled the situation much like a concerned spouse would. He pretty much had to act as your representative since you couldn't really communicate with the police beyond barely answering the questions they posed.

Even now, the man steadily met the gaze of the officers, profile composed and level-headed. As stark contrast to the murderous fury displayed during the altercation.

One officer gingerly approached, his even but concerned gaze meeting the other man's almost instantly.

"Hey John." The man quietly greeted.

"Hey Jimmy."

There was clearly some familiarity between the two but John still retained his impersonal nature over the course of the conversation enough to raise some doubt.

The policeman began to calmly relay information to you and your lover.

"As of now, we've uncovered about three more cameras aside from the ones you found. We're still in the process of combing the place though. We think he's had your place bugged for a while but we won't know the extent of how long until we review the footage and put together a decent timeline. That's all we have right now but we'll keep you updated."

"Thanks Jimmy." John answered with a curt nod.

"No problem." He replied, before turning to you. "I'm really sorry this happened to you."

Your mouth opened but closed when you realized you didn't know what to say back to him without a lump appearing in your brutalized throat.

Having not really said anything, you couldn't manage more than a few words at a time. You think you're suspended in a state of shock. As a direct result, you were operating solely off heightened anxiety. If you could retreat into yourself away from everything and not be disturbed you certainly would. Everyone could sense that you were shaken up and didn't want to press or put too much on you. The police only wanted to know the specifics at this point in time and would likely follow up after more investigating. John stayed extremely close to you the entire time

Frankly, you're not sure how to react. At this point in time, you were incapable of processing your emotions correctly. All you know is that you just want to feel safe from danger and wrapped in some type of security and reassurance.

That raised the question - How else does one handle being nearly killed? What exactly was the right way to react?

More importantly, did it always have to come to this? Men outright attacking you when they didn't get their way?

In the beginning, he kept up the image of a good guy who was always polite and friendly towards you. Because of this, you merely thought of him as a harmless albeit somewhat creepy individual but now you couldn't see him as anything but a loathsome monster. Now you looked back at all the times you had an encounter with him. The 'random runs-in, the little personal questions he sometimes threw your way when he wanted to initiate conversation, him being entirely too cheerful to see you. All the signs were there but you had no way of knowing that it would lead to this…

Never did you think he was capable of something like this. You would've never conceptualized that he was the type of man to inflict violence on you for not accepting his unwanted advances. To think that he'd likely been going in and out of your apartment while you were away, going through your things and having enough time to set up cameras was distressing. It showed a hyperfixation…an obsession that was inherently predatory.

He knew of your existing relationship with another man and he still chose to do this. When did he find the time to develop such an unhealthy emotional attachment with you?

You've had instances where you rejected men and they didn't take it well but you've never dealt with anything this serious. In most cases, men used rejection as a sort of fuel to commit heinous deeds. Apparently, too many rejections was enough for your landlord to plant cameras all over your apartment to become privy to you at your most vulnerable. What happened was a prime example of a man not being able to accept no for an answer and move on. That's what it all came down to.

It was almost laughable to think that a so-called 'nice guy' would wind up doing this to you. The ugly truth of the matter was that it just goes to show how a woman can never really trust a man's intentions especially when he chooses to relentlessly pursue you. The discomfort and awkwardness you felt being around him was not unfounded. In fact, you suspect that your womanly instinct wouldn't allow you to feel comfortable around him for this very reason. In retrospect, it was probably a good thing that you'd been staying at John's home. Had you actually been residing in your place who knows what sort of footage he may have of you.

Throughout all of this, your privacy had been invaded in the worst way and its left you feeling extremely uncomfortable and unsafe. He had no idea that his actions had stripped you of your agency and so much more. The man's actions were just as appalling as they were inexplicable.

They'd asked about possible motives but something already told you that they had a general idea given the nature of the crime committed. Women were often cautioned and trained to be polite to men who showed interest in them even though they felt the opposite. This advice was recommended to women specifically to avoid being attacked or met with a violent response from the men whom they rejected. He really attempted to kill you once you figured out that he was the culprit. He literally wrapped his hands around your neck with the intent to take your life. It was the scariest experience of your life.

The entire experience was jarring and it almost felt too surreal for it to be reality. Counting this instance, this made the third time you'd been attacked and almost grievously injured or killed in a matter of months. It was rather unfavorable that you had firsthand experience with these kinds of circumstances. Things had been going well for a while and now you just had another traumatic event to add to the list. The only difference this time was that you were unable to put what happened in the back of your mind. You couldn't ignore the psychological damage it had done to you. The emotional and physical detriment was too much. The pressure, the fear, the uncertainty - it all was too much. You were powerless against it.

The whole situation was fucked.

As of now, the question of you possibly keeping your apartment was null and void. Per John's decision, you were to break your lease and move out immediately. The matter of your safety takes precedence over all else. Needless to say, you would never step foot in the apartment again and you mourned silently for the knowledge of that internally.

Fragmented recollections of every previous experience flashed before your mind's eye in alarming disordered quantities. Being accosted in a club bathroom, a funny smelling rag stuffed over your nose, being tied up and transported in the back of a car. And perhaps the worst of all, the depressing image of a kidnapped child in the very same predicament. All of it came back rushing back like a tidal wave.

The first time something like this happened, you were far too inebriated and the second time had ended just as quickly as it began. Both sets of events had ended solely because of John's interference. Without it, you'd probably just be a memory to your loved ones. And now it occurred to you that this was the very time you actually got the chance to process the severity of the danger you'd been in. Just because you weren't able to emotionally register it at the time didn't mean you weren't affected.

For months, you'd been able to block out nearly every event designed to cause you mental duress and trauma. Due to the efforts of your significant other, you were allowed to push all of the horrible things you experienced into the back of your mind and live. John had effectively shielded you from falling into a pit of paranoia and despair because of what you'd experienced. If something caused you any stress, he'd find the solution where you don't have the mental capacity to focus on it for long. With him the horrible aspects in your life didn't seem so bad.

Had John not showed up when he did you would very likely be dead and that was the unequivocal truth.

"Let's go." He softly urged, pressing a guiding hand to your back.

Given the fact that you don't startle easily, the fact that your savior's touch, which should've been an immediate source of comfort, was subconsciously interpreted as inherent threat was distressing.

John did not comment on the reaction, his dark brows only drawing close in an indecipherable expression.

Nonetheless, you obeyed his gentle command without complaint.

The car ride back home was spent staring out the passenger window blankly.

With your perception of time severely off, the both of you arrived at John's place in what seemed like a blur. Wordlessly, you exited the car and entered the house in half-formed movements as if you were strictly operating on autopilot.

Through the unerringly serene disposition, he continuously gazed at you soundlessly, taking note of your lack of a reaction. Naturally, you weren't privy to his inner thoughts on the manner and his features didn't reveal anything in particular. However, your despondent behavior must be off putting to him despite him not indicating as much.

"Milaya…"

Although your lips twitched they wouldn't part to answer him. Any words you wanted to convey were heavily confined to the confines of your sore throat. All the emotions you thought you were able to starve off until now suddenly came rushing to the surface. The heaviness in your chest hadn't dissipated, as a matter of fact, it felt as if it had grown much heavier.

In your head, you seemed to be going through all the emotions - sadness, stress, confusion, fear.

On account of everything that took place, you'd forgotten all about the spilt drink that ruined your favorite coat and disregarded the conversation about your weight. All of it had fallen to the background.

Watery moisture started to gather in your eyes, blurring your sight. The pressure behind your eyes had been building for some time before it finally erupted like a broken dam. And finally the weight of the world came crashing down onto you.

Before you could stop it, wet streaks began rolling down your cheeks in narrow rivets. Your hands flew up in a half-hearted attempt to prevent the first sob from leaving your mouth. In doing so, you failed miserably and the sound escaped into the room. Unable to hold yourself up any longer, your legs promptly gave out, causing you to collapse right into John's arms. He held you as you shook and wailed - gasping uncontrollably as you struggled to breathe in between.

The maelstrom of emotions within you were too overwhelming for you to contain.


Tumblr: teejaywyatt.1