Sky hated hospitals.

She hated all of it - the stench of disinfectant, sick people and medicine, the squeaky clean floors, the worn, scratchy sheets, the hospital gown she was forced to wear. But more than anything, she hated the feeling in her gut that hit her every time she was back in here, the nauseating mix of fear and anxiety that made her stomach turn.

She had begged Dad to let her stay home, but Dad had been adamant. He was not ignoring her nausea or the splitting headache, that could have been signs of a concussion, and yeah, Sky knew he was right, but still. She'd rather be anywhere than here.

And to make things even worse, Dad had called the police.

Sky rested her aching head on the pillow, trying to fight the burning tears behind her closed eyelids. Nothing she'd tried to say to Dad had made any difference. She had cried and she had begged, but he had still made the call. Enough, he had said his voice sahking with barely contained emotion. This insanity has been going on long enough. I'm not going to watch how they kill my only daughter.

Sky knew he meant well, but the knot in her gut told her this was a mistake. Dad didn't understand. He didn't know John Kreese like Sky did, or Terry Silver who was supposedly even worse. Dad didn't know how they were, how much power they held. He didn't understand that fighting Cobra Kai would not help Sky, that it would only make things worse. And what hurt even more, was that Dad didn't understand that talking about what Kyler had done was—

Impossible.

It felt impossible.

The words were locked up in Sky's stomach, in a tight, cold knot, and forcing them out would hurt.

It had taken her two years to be able to talk about the things Matt had done, and to this day she had only told it to Dad, Cody, and Eli. And to her therapist. But to talk to the police— She had never even thought about it. There had been no point. Matt was already rotting in jail.

But Kyler—

The memory of his hot, sweaty hands shoving up her skirt flashed through Sky's body like a sword. She wrapped her arms around her knees, hugging them tighter against her aching chest to keep herself together. She could still feel his touch, his fingers stroking her through her panties, trying to get in. She could still taste the sharp taste of fear and shame on her lips. She'd been so fucking helpless. In his eyes, she had seen what he wanted to do to her. Awful, awful things. To break her, the same way Matt had, to break her body and her soul and her heart, to kill her by drowning her in shame. Had Tory and Robby not been there, Kyler would have gone through with it. You could say many bad things about Tory and Robbt, but they didn't seem like people who would just stand by when a girl was raped, even if they were in Cobra Kai. But had they not been there—

A new wave of nausea washed through Sky's strengthless body. She clenched her jaw and swallowed, swallowed, swallowed to keep the bile down.

Had Tory and Robby not been there, Kyler would have had his way with her. And who knew about the rest of the guys in Cobra Kai? They were all sick bastards. Maybe they all would have taken turns, one by one, doing it in front of Eli—

That thought was too painful, Sky couldn't take it. It burned in her chest like a flaming arrow. Her shame was a bottomless dark hole where she kept falling, falling, falling. Eli hadn't even been able to look her in the eye on the way here. He had barely said a dozen words to her, and that hurt more than anything.

Maybe he thought she'd been asking for it?

Maybe he thought she deserved it?

He had said it himself, that horrible night they had fought on his front door, that the only reason anyone would be with her was to get some pussy, so maybe seeing Kyler treating her like a worthless slut, had reminded Eli of what she really was.

No wonder he'd been in a rush to go and leave her here. He hadn't even texted her, to ask if she was okay and that should tell her enough.

Stupid. So fucking stupid. The tears burned like acid in her eyes, on her cheeks. She had just wanted him to stay with her, to hold her hand and tell her it didn't matter, that he still cared, that he still loved her.

But now—

Ruined. All ruined.

A knock on the door, someone entered the room. Sky recognized Dad's footsteps even without looking and forced herself to wipe the tears off her cheeks. She didn't want Dad to see she'd been crying - didn't want to have that conversation, not now. But when she turned to look, Dad wasn't alone.

Her body tensing like a string, Sky sat up, clutching the sheets up against her chest.

The man who entered the room with Dad could only be with the police. Short, dark hair, even darker eyes, dress shirt. He was saying something, but any name, any introduction went straight through Sky's ringing ears.

"Dad—" she breathed, barely getting that word through her trembling lips.

"I know," Dad sighed, and ran a hand through his hair as he leaned in the doorway. "I know you wanted a female officer, but none was available right now."

Sky glanced from Dad to the stranger standing next to him, feeling how her stomach climbed up her throat.

The man in the dress shirt rubbed his chin. "It's alright. If you'd rather talk to someone else, you can wait. I'm sure a female colleague can stop by in a couple of hours, or so."

Sky swallowed hard. A couple of hours? She had hoped to be going home after this stupid thing was done. No way was she going to wait for hours. If she had to wait for another minute, she wouldn't go through with this at all.

"It's your decision, Sky," Dad said softly, his voice as kind as always. "If you'd rather wait, then we'll wait."

Biting her lip, Sky looked down. Her glance stopped at the bracelet she always wore around her right wrist. In the small, glass-covered disc was the writing Beware, for I am fearless and therefore powerful, and with that came a painful, vivid memory of Cody sitting on her bed, his hand in hers, and his words Sky, you are the bravest person I know.

Her chest went tight, so tight she could barely breathe. She didn't feel brave at all, on the contrary, she was drowning in fear. But wasn't courage just that? To do the right thing, even - and especially - when it scared the crap out of you?

Cody had believed she possessed that strength. And maybe—

Maybe talking to the police, would be the way to avenge Cody's death too.

"No, it's okay. Let's do this." Her voice was broken and thin, speaking through her bruised throat was painful, but she raised her eyes and swallowed her fear. "You can come in."

"Alright," the detective said and walked into the room, pulling himself a chair without asking if he could. He took a notebook from his pocket and flipped it open, clicked his pen, and turned his dark, chocolate brown eyes to Sky. "Why don't you start from the beginning? Walk me through what happened."

Sky drew in a tense breath, her fingers gripped on the sheets. God, how hard it was to find the right words, to force out any words, but she had to do this, now, before she lost all courage. She had to do this, not just for herself, but for Cody too, who was dead because of Kyler, and for Sam and all the other girls Kyler had touched without their consent, and for Eli, who had gotten attacked and his hair had been shaved.

Sky had never been good at protecting herself. But protecting the people she loved—

That she knew.

So, she talked. And it was awful.

It was one of the hardest things she had ever done, but she pushed through. Her voice trembling, tears running down her face, her words tasting like blood, she talked. She told the detective everything that had happened, starting with Tory's punch in her face, ending with Rico bursting back into the room, driving the Cobras away.

She didn't leave out one detail, not even the most awful ones, about where Kyler had put his fingers. But she did ask Dad to leave the room for that part. It was bad enough to tell the police— but having Dad hear all those details, would have been impossible.

When she was finally done, there was nothing left inside of her. No words, no tears. Just hollow, aching emptiness.

"Alright," the detective said, his sharp, angular face blank of any emotion. He flipped his notebook into the pocket of his jacket, and stood up, smoothening the wrinkles on his navy blue pants. "You'll be hearing from me in a couple of days. Until then, try to get some rest. You've clearly been through a lot."

The last sentence held some unexpected warmth. Sky's throat clenched up, and all she could manage was a weak nod.

Rest. She was exhausted and sore, but she seriously doubted if she could ever sleep again. Not that she'd been sleeping anyway, not since Cody's death— but now, just the thought of closing her eyes filled Sky's chest with dread. All she would see was Kyler's face, his too-wide smile that was smeared with blood that poured out of his nose, his words that slithered under her skin like insects, carving her hollow. Your turn, bitch.

"How are you feeling?" Dad's voice dropped Sky back into the moment. She blinked, and the room came into focus. The detective was gone, and in the doorway stood Dad, holding two paper cups in his fingers. "Are you thirsty? I got us some hot chocolate."

Sky raised a hand to brush some escaped curls behind her ear, but that hand stopped in the air mid-motion, and she let it fall. Her fingers had only met air where her curls should've been. There was nothing there, just emptiness, just like in the broken, hollow cavity of her chest.

Dad noticed the way her hand fell to her lap, and he let out a sigh as he walked closer and carefully placed the cups on the small tray that was attached to the hospital bed.

"It'll grow back," he said softly. "And while we wait for that, you can get hair extensions or anything you want."

Sky managed a nod. He was right, of course. She had a very fast-growing hair type, easily an inch every month. But still— Kyler had cut off her ponytail, leaving behind only a short, fuzzy mess that barely reached Sky's jawline. Her hair had never been this short, and it would take years for it to grow back to the length she liked it.

Every time she looked in the mirror, would be a reminder of Kyler, his fingers wrapping around her throat, his stench of blood and mint on her face, and his other hand—

Sky swallowed down the bile in her throat, picked up the cup of hot chocolate, and took a sip. The drink was too hot, and too sweet, mostly just sugar. Clearly purchased from a vending machine, it bore little resemblance to the thick, rich beverage Dad made at home. Still, Sky appreciated the gesture. If only she had some whiskey or vodka or even tequila to add to the cup— That thought was passing but filled her with wanting. She needed something, something to take away the edge of this pain, of the horrors of this day, this month, this life: alcohol, nicotine— or opiates, the ultimate relief.

If only. Sky's hands trembled as she took another sip. Hot chocolate would not fix her concussion, or erase the traces of Kyler's touch between her legs, but that was all she had. She hadn't even gotten painkillers for this headache, that was getting unbearable.

"How did it go? Did you tell the detective everything?" Dad asked, drawing Sky's attention back to the moment. She placed the cup back on the tray.

"Yeah." She looked down at her lap, where her hands lay. Small, pale hands, slender fingers. Weak hands. Hands that hadn't been able to stop Kyler, to save herself, or Eli. She could only hope her words to the detective would bring them some justice.

"Good," Dad replied, sounding relieved. "I know it was hard for you. But you did the right thing. It was very brave and I'm proud of you."

Nothing to be proud about, Sky thought, clenching her stupid hands and turning her eyes away.

"I don't know if he believed me," she breathed. God, how talking hurt. Her throat was so sore that every word was a struggle.

"Why would you say that?" Dad sounded genuinely confused. "It's not just about what you told him. The bruises— you're injuries are evidence too. Why wouldn't he believe you?"

"Because they never believe the girl," Sky replied, her voice broken and silent.

Dad's lips opened but then closed forming a tight line across his face. His throat bobbed as he swallowed something he'd been about to say. Sky couldn't bear to look at him, the pain etched to his features. He meant well, but he didn't understand. He would never understand.

"Sky—" He sighed, but she interrupted him before he could say more.

"Can we go home now? Please, I'm tired."

Dad looked miserable. "I'm sorry, sweetie. The doctor said she wants to keep you here overnight, for observation. I know you wanted to go home, but they have to make sure it's just a concussion and nothing more serious."

The disappointment brought the tears back. Home. She had just wanted to go home, to pull on one of Kat's old shirts, to crawl up in her bed and cry her tears into the pillow, hugging her unicorn plushie tight against her chest. But no such luck. She was stuck, in here, in the place she hated more than anything in the whole fucking world.

"Did you—" she had to clear her throat. "Did you ask if I could get something? For the pain? I– I don't think I can sleep like this."

Now it was Dad's turn to turn his eyes away. The line of his jaw went tight, hard, before he replied.

"Yeah. The doctor's gonna see you in a minute. Are you— are you hurting a lot?"

Sky didn't have to fake the tears that spilled to her cheeks. Her neck was sore and bruised, her lip was cut where Tory had punched her and the splitting headache felt like someone was driving an ice peak into her eye socket. But worse than the physical pain, was the emotional one. The anxiety made her want to peel her skin off, slit her wrists, jump out of the window. Too much, too much had happened, and it was too much to expect she could take it all, close her eyes and just go to sleep.

She needed help. Even if it was just for this night.

"It's gonna be alright," Dad said silently and slid a hand to hers. His grip was strong and warm as if he truly believed it.

Sky couldn't take his kindness, his warmth. Not now. There was only one person she would have wanted holding her hand, but he had run away from her, had left her here, and it felt like her heart was carved out of her chest. She pulled her hand away from Dad's and wiped her wet cheeks before picking up her phone from the same tray where her cup of hot chocolate still sat.

"I need to call Eli," she whispered, not looking at Dad. "Can you give me a moment?"

A short, tense moment of silence before Dad replied.

"Sure. I'll get some water. Be back in a minute."

Dad stood up and left, his shoulders hunched as if the weight of the world was on him. At any other moment, Sky would have hated herself for making him sad, for pushing him away like this, but not now. Her heart was so full of sadness already, that there was no room for more.

She stared at the lock screen of her phone until she heard Dad's footsteps leaving the room, the door closing behind him, and only then did she let out the tense breath she had been holding.

She knew she had to talk to Eli, but— at the same time it felt like an iron band squeezing her chest. There were too many things she wanted to say, but they were a buzzing beehive inside of her head, the thoughts flickering in and out of her conscious mind too fast and brief for her to grasp them. I should tell him I love him. That I love him for him, that it wasn't just about his hair—

But he wouldn't want to hear that, not from her, now that everything was ruined between them. Now that she was ruined, damaged, disgusting. She could't make herself to press the call button, to hear it in his voice, if he even picked up.

Stupid tears, they blurred her vision. She wiped them away almost angrily, hoping against all hope that the doctor decided to give her some opiates, anything, to take away this pain that was fucking killing her.

Nothing she wanted to say came out, so in the end she only sent a short text. Dad called the police. I told them everything. Just wanted to give u a heads up since they probably want to talk to u too. Three sentences and nothing more, she sent them into the dark void of the space, hoping that Eli would care enough to read them.

That he would care enough to do as she asked.

For if he didn't back up her story about what had happened in the tattoo parlor, there was no way the police would believe her.