Chapter Seventeen: Her Room

True to Pulaski's word, he took Meg not back inside the school, but around the side of it and carted her to the parking lot. The girl's stomach flipped when he stopped beside his truck and moved around to her front, bending down and easily lifting her under the arms. He hefted her close to his chest, and she snapped her hands around his neck, nervous about being dropped.

His arm was like an iron bar, though, fully supporting her weight.

She was kind of amazed, honestly, because he always managed to hold her with one arm while folding her chair and even packing it into the bed of his truck with the other.

"Alright," he said, opening the passenger door and getting her situated, buckling the seatbelt. She watched him hop back down, slam the door, and trot around to the driver's side, still having trouble comprehending what was even happening. She watched as he climbed in, pulled his own seatbelt on, and keyed the ignition of his truck, twisting around to watch as he reversed.

Then, he shifted gears, and they were driving out of the parking lot, away from school.

Meg leaned back, blinking rapidly, swaying with the motion of the vehicle. She was still holding her notepad, but she didn't want to distract him while he was driving even though she had so many freaking questions about what was happening right now.

"Are your folks home this time of day?" Mike suddenly asked.

Meg glanced at him, then flipped the notebook open and wrote, "my mom usually is. Stewie is probably either at daycare or kindergarten."

He didn't look at the page until he'd stopped at a red light; only then did he take a moment to read her response. His eyes narrowed and he nodded. "This should be interesting, then."

Unease flooded her stomach, and she swallowed hard. Her hand twitched, wondering if she should write down to be careful about her mom, since Lois had a tendency to hit on guys like him, especially if they had anything to do with her, but after a time she decided against it.

Even if Mike did wind up having the hots for her mom, she wouldn't let it hurt her, because they weren't dating... she didn't have feelings for him. Sure, he was the first person who had ever apologized for directly mistreating her, and sure, he was helping her more than anyone else was, but... no. Meg shook her head harshly, refusing to think more on it. Mike Pulaski wasn't someone she would let herself become attached to. Even now, she wasn't sure if they could be called friends. He was more like an ally than anything, and his help was purely conditional.

Apology or not, what he did in his spare time was his choice.

Resolved, the girl set the pen behind her ear and folded her hands over her skirt.

The ride to her house didn't take nearly as much time as she was expecting, and the family car was gone, meaning her dad had already left for work. Mike pulled up into the driveway, turned off the engine, threw his belt off, followed by the door, and got out.

Meg took her own seat belt off to make things easier on him, though she admittedly paused to watch in the side mirror when he grabbed her wheelchair from the back. With an almost expert jerk, he flipped the thing open and pushed it over, pulling the passenger door open.

The breeze from outside rushed against her cheeks and hair when he eyed her.

"Come on," he grumped, scooping her up bridal style and pulling her outside; he flopped her down into the chair, slammed the door shut, and pushed her towards the front door. Meg's heart started pounding when he reached over her head with a thick, muscular arm, and twisted the knob; the door opened, so he grunted and pushed Meg inside.

"- and how the heck did he manage to do that?" her mother's nasally voice came from the kitchen, followed by silence, then a cackle. "Wow! Well, Loraine, from the way you describe it, it sounds like you had a lot of fun! Peter could learn a thing or two from your husband! Ha!"

Meg tipped her head back uneasily, staring at Mike, who was glaring like a serial killer.

The look spooked her, but before she could react, he snorted and stepped around her, hefting her into his arms once again, bridal style. The girl's shoulders bunched to her ears, and she fiddled with her hands when he looked at her intensely, eyes practically burning her soul.

"Where is your room?" he quietly asked. "Point."

Meg obediently pointed at the stairs.

Without another word, Mike carried her there and took them two at a time, moving quickly and quietly. He stopped when they made it to the upstairs hall, and she pointed at her room. He made a small sound of acknowledgement and carried her over there, but when he pushed the door open and stepped into her room, all of a sudden, he froze.

Meg glanced at his startled face, confused, then looked at her room, then looked back at him. She didn't know why he looked so surprised. Her room was clean. Her bed was made.

Nothing was really out of place.

Mike carefully closed the door behind him with his foot, then stepped forward slowly, scanning her room with observant eyes. His gaze landed on the microwave sitting on the mini fridge over in the corner, to the teal vanity table with the ornate mirror her grandmother had gifted her for her fifteenth birthday, and the dresser with the matching teal paint. His brows rose when he saw the ancient box television.

She could understand his surprise on that, at least.

The television was thirty-two years old and hooked up to an old-school VRC. It couldn't even get cable anymore. Her grandparents had thrown it out, along with all the stuff that connected to it and boxes of old movies, but Meg had secretly taken it home and put it on her dresser.

After all, it still worked, and she was someone who had little enough as it was.

Mike's eyes studied the small pink sofa she'd bought with competition money resting against the second window, scanning the plush blue pillows she'd used to decorated it, as well as the pink curtains above it. Then his gaze swept across her bed, taking in the crocheted pink blanket with the white daisies embroidered over the top of it. His eyes then landed on all the stuffed animals surrounding her similarly flowery pillows, as well as the wall, and even on the windowsill. He ogled the lilac-tinged white wallpaper, then the violet carpets, and finally he just stood there, blinking.

Without warning, he let out a slow, quiet whistle.

"Damn. Your room really is girly," he grunted, sounding fairly amused. "I'm surprised by how girly. This is... all your personal touch? This is how you like to decorate your personal space?"

Feeling oddly embarrassed, Meg shyly nodded, ears burning.

He didn't look at her, his eyes had fixated on the violin and cello cases against the wall. His entire body suddenly became completely still, so still he didn't even seem to breathe. The only thing that moved were his eyes; his skin slowly began to drain of color as he stood there, and Meg frowned at him, wondering why, but then... he began to approach her instruments, staring at them intently.

Or... no, rather, he was looking at the photographs and the medals she'd tacked to the wall above them. He studied the pictures people had gifted her during various events she'd signed up for over the years, hoping that even though her parents would never care about her efforts, someone would recognize them and reach out to get her away from the hell she lived in.

Meg looked at the pictures as well, mulling over the memories.

There were photos taken during her figure-skating days, and her gymnastics tournaments, and her dance tournaments. There were photos of when she'd gone snowboarding and skiing, photos of her holding medals for linguistics competitions. Photos of her performing on the cello, and the violin, and the piano, and even singing in the only beautiful dress she'd ever worn, the black sequin one, which Mayor West had taken back from her to sell for a gift that he later gave to her Aunt Carol...

Meg knew that all of her achievements on this wall were beyond impressive.

Her talents and skills had been her biggest hope for escape, after all.

"Jesus," Mike whispered, sounding shell-shocked. "You... you got first place so many times..."

She nodded sadly, smiling a little in acknowledgement.

"How the hell can your parents treat you like they do?" the boy breathlessly got out, and he looked down at her with his mouth literally hanging open in disbelief. "Beanie Girl, did you seriously win all of those competitions? Are these photos of you real?"

She blinked, then nodded again, a little more slowly.

"What the fuck!" he blurted, exasperatedly scanning the photos again with his bushy eyebrows raised, mouth agape. "This is insane! You're, like, super fucking talented! Gymnastics, dance, musical instruments, ice skating, snowboarding, skiing - you can do all of that?! For real?!"

Meg frowned, then looked at her legs, and his shocked face crumpled...

Then, his face twisted into something vicious. Veins pulsed in his thick neck and in his reddening temples as he turned his attention back on one particular photo, staring at it with narrowed eyes, visibly fuming. She was shocked his ears weren't steaming, that smoke wasn't rising from his nostrils.

Still, she followed his gaze.

It was a picture of the gymnastics tournament she'd signed up for last summer. Mousy brown hair tied back in a ponytail, wearing her white and blue leotard, holding the first-place trophy with the second and third place winners beside her. The girls on either side of her had been surrounded by their families, wrapped up in massive hugs, all of them grinning.

In sharp contrast, Meg had been standing alone, smiling at the camera proudly.

Mike's arms tightened on her and he abruptly turned away from the wall, carefully setting her down on her bed and straightening his back. She looked up at him worriedly, unsure of what to do or how to react, watching as he used both hands to push his golden hair back.

He blinked at the ceiling for a bit, then let go and looked down at her.

"Do you have a suitcase?" he gruffly asked, face harder than stone.

Meg nodded and pointed at her closet, and he wasted no time pulling it open and rummaging around. He snorted, then tugged her flower-laden pastel pink duffel bag into view, followed by all four of her shirts. He actually paused when he realized she only had three pairs of jeans.

"Where are the rest of your clothes?" he asked, turning to frown at her.

She blinked, then pulled open the notepad and scribbled, 'that's all of them, aside from this skirt I'm wearing. The sweater you ripped didn't even belong to me, it was originally my mom's.'

His jaw dropped once again.

"You have four shirts, total?" he asked, and she nodded; he visibly got even angrier. "And three pairs of jeans, max? That's it?"

Meg made a face, scribbling, 'yes, but to be fair, I needed to save my money for my future, and I intend to get myself new clothes at the mall. I have to. Pants are too hard to put on alone.'

She held it up, watching as he read it.

Then those chilling eyes scanned it again, and again, and then a fourth time.

"Your parents are the most disgusting people on this planet," he suddenly said, more stunned than anything as he turned to ogle her room again, gaze lingering on the microwave. "Why do you have a fridge and a microwave in here? Those are expensive. Why not buy clothes instead?"

Meg rolled her eyes and grimaced, writing, 'getting food from downstairs meant interacting with my family more often, and sometimes, they'd call me fat and mock my weight. I stopped eating anything but dinner in front of them a long while back, and even then, I usually make a frozen dinner for myself instead of having to be down there with them. Giving myself fewer reasons to leave my room was more important to me than new clothes at the time. I mean, it's not like the clothes I have right now are in tatters or anything, right?'

She lifted the paper and held it up, giving him a forced, tentative smile.

He wore no expression on his face after reading it.

All he did was nod, slowly, digesting her words. Silently, he turned away and took down her shirts, all of which were varying shades of pink, staring at each one of them, looking at the fabric, feeling it. He then carefully folded them, one at a time, and tucked them in her duffel bag. He left her jeans alone and instead moved over to her dresser, pulling the top one open.

His brows rose and Meg flailed her arms, realizing he was staring right at her -

"Cute," he deadpanned, and she flushed when he whistled lowly, mortified by the devilish smirk that crossed his face. "Pink, pink, pink with teddy bears, pink with white lace, white and pink stripes - classy - and white with pink polka dots. Damn, Beanie, you really are a girly girl."

Meg would have been flailing her legs and screaming, but all she could do was cover her steaming face. She reached out and clutched his jacket with a single hand, refusing to look at him, and he chuckled darkly, but thankfully he stopped teasing her. He scooped all of her underwear out of her drawer and broke her hold on him, dropping everything into the bag.

"Alright," he grunted, glancing at her room. "Anything else we need I think we can get at the mall, so let's bounce and hit the road."

Meg nodded, face still burning, but after slinging her duffel bag over his shoulder, he bent down and scooped her up, hefting her weight with ease. He glanced down at her once, and although he still looked mad enough to spit venom, there was something else behind his gaze.

Something she didn't recognize.

Her throat closed and she broke eye contact, squeezing the notepad.

Mike headed for the door and quietly opened it, silently leaving her room behind. He trotted down the wooden stairs, and Meg was about to relax, but just as they turned the corner into the living room they ran into Lois, who drew back from Meg's chair in shock upon seeing them.

"Meg?" her mother asked, looking first at her in disbelief, then at Mike, who squeezed her a bit tighter. "Why aren't you in school, and who... oh, wow, who is this?"

The girl winced when she saw the look Lois was giving Mike, hating how familiar the way those eyes lingered on his burly, broad-shouldered frame was. She even looked away when her mom's gaze sank lower, not wanting to think or acknowledge what the woman was actually ogling.

"I'm her boyfriend," Mike said in a very cold, predatory way; Lois raised an eyebrow and hit him with her million-watt smile, the one she often used to melt the hearts of everyone around her.

Meg hardly noticed - she was reeling over what he'd just said. The girl could only stare at him with buggy eyes, mouth hanging open, because why the hell had he told her mom that?!

"Well, Mr. Boyfriend, got a name to go along with that face?" Lois asked, folding her arms beneath her breasts, and Meg wanted to puke, because she knew what her mom was doing.

"Michael Pulaski," he grunted, staring her dead in the eyes with that same bone-chilling expression. His hands kneaded Meg's ribs, gently. "Meg forgot some of her textbooks here this morning, so, since it's lunch time for us, I came to help her get them. We're both seniors so we need to be on our A-game when it comes to our classes and grades."

"I see, I see. Well, I'm Lois Griffin!" Lois said, grinning beautifully, then scoffed at Meg. "Why didn't you tell me you were dating such a handsome and responsible guy, Meg? You should have brought him home way sooner! He seems like a really good catch! Really easy on the eyes, too!"

Unable to get away from the question, the girl just shrugged weakly.

She was surprised that Mike had actually referred to himself as her boyfriend. She didn't understand why he'd done that, but it didn't really matter since it wasn't actually true.

"We have to get back to school before class starts, Ma'am," Mike said stonily, and Lois nodded, giving him yet another slow once over. "It was nice meeting you."

"Likewise, Mikey," Lois drawled back, smirking a little.

Mike stiffly carried Meg out of the house, shut the front door, and the girl twitched, realizing he'd forgotten to grab her wheelchair. He didn't react when she tugged on his jacket, nor did he look at her, his eyes were fixed on his truck. He threw the passenger door open, then gently set her in.

He reached down to grab the chair, then paused, making a face.

"Dammit, wait here," he muttered, slamming the door shut; she watched as he walked back up to the front door, opened it, and stepped inside, only to halt dead in his tracks. The door closed on its own, and she swallowed, staring at her house. Seconds ticked by, trickling into minutes, and her heart began to pound as memories of the last time this had happened hit her.

With Anthony...

She closed her eyes, grimacing at the mere thought of him, hating the bitter ache that still flooded through her heart. She'd met him last year... he had been a boy from another school, a boy who'd caught her crying in the park on a bench at three in the morning.

About a month after Adam West had broken her heart by announcing to her family over dinner that he loved Carol, her family had locked her outside for three days. She hadn't heard her dad calling for her through her earbuds, so he'd thrown her out into the rain and had refused to let her in even though it had been storming. She'd wound up sleeping out in the wet and cold, shivering and hungry.

On the third night, she'd just broken down.

Hating everything. Wishing she could disappear. Wishing someone could take her away.

Wishing she was loved.

And suddenly, there he'd been.

Somewhat tall, but also slender, with curly dark blonde hair, brilliant ice blue eyes, high, narrow cheek bones, beautiful lips, and a delicate nose with similarly delicate eyebrows. His skin had been like porcelain, flawless and smooth, and to Meg, he'd shone like the sun even in the rain.

For whatever reason, he had stopped and put his umbrella over her head, had asked her what was wrong, those blue eyes crinkling in genuine concern for her. Worried, for her. Meg had looked at him from where she'd been sitting curled into a cold, wet ball, brown hair plastered to her face, soaked, and she'd just burst into tears. She'd literally told him everything that had been happening.

Sobbing hysterically, she'd vented to him, a total stranger.

Anthony, who had sat down beside her, listening.

He'd set his hand on her arm... visibly upset by everything she'd said, and after she'd finished explaining, he had actually invited her to stay at his place for a bit. His parents both worked overseas in Europe, and since he hadn't wanted to go with them, he'd been living alone.

Meg, being cold and wet and tired and sad, had just... accepted.

Anthony, despite being only sixteen, had been very polite and well mannered... he'd treated her respectfully, he'd been kind, and after letting her use his shower and giving her some of his clothes to wear, he'd put on some soft music and invited her to talk about anything, or everything, whatever made her feel better. He'd started the conversation by talking about his favorite movies, followed by his favorite bands, and Meg, still upset, had tentatively done the same. For hours and hours, they'd talked, and she'd wound up actually very invested in the conversations. They'd shared interests in music and clicked surprisingly well conversationally.

They'd ended up falling asleep together on the couch, cuddled up.

The next morning, he had made her breakfast, and since it was Sunday, he'd invited her to go to out with him. She'd accepted, and changed back into her clothes, which he'd already washed and dried for her, and then... he'd taken her out to a theme park, just to cheer her up.

That day, she'd been utterly enthralled by how sweet and kind he was.

For someone as love starved as her, it hadn't taken very long to fall back into the trap of unconditionally devoting every part of herself to someone who would one day, without fail, destroy her again.

After that day of fun, Anthony had walked her home, given her his phone number, forced her to give him her number, and he'd then invited her out on a coffee date. As well as told her to reach out if she was ever struggling like that again. Meg's heart, back then, had fluttered, and... well...

After a month, they'd gone steady.

For three months after, they'd dated.

They'd held hands.

They'd kissed.

He had even shown up for her gymnastics competition last summer. He'd said he'd loved her, his kisses had given her butterflies, his hand in her own had made her feel warm and safe, like all the things she'd been wanting might actually be found in his smile, in his arms.

Like maybe she could be loved.

For real.

And then... that night had come.

Around the time that the incident with her mom had happened, Anthony had been bugging her for a while to meet her family officially... he'd pressured her to introduce him to them, really. She hadn't wanted to, because she knew that doing so would be like inviting things to go wrong, and moreover she knew how hard they would judge her and, frankly, she hadn't wanted to deal with them on top of all the stuff that had been happening to her with the bullying at school.

Back then, Anthony had been her safe space.

But after weeks and weeks of internal struggle and debate, she'd finally gathered her courage, put on a smile, and had asked her parents if she could invite her boyfriend over for dinner. They hadn't believed her. They'd been sarcastic and snippy, even after she'd told them his name.

Still, they'd given her the green light, so... she'd brought him over.

Her dad had acted super weird that night, making weird comments over the table that clearly made Anthony uncomfortable, like how strange it was that Meg could ever date a guy like him considering she was so ugly compared to him. Anthony had told Peter that she wasn't, he thought she was really pretty, but instead of being happy for her, everyone had laughed.

Like it was a joke.

It had been awkward, but, after dinner... when everyone had gone off to do their own things, she and Anthony had talked about it for a bit. He'd told her that she was perfect, and beautiful, and that he finally understood why she'd been reluctant to introduce him to her family, but... well, the conversation had become electrical. He'd leaned in and kissed her, and she'd let him, and he'd pulled her on top of him. They'd kissed passionately for a bit, and then they'd cuddled.

The thing Meg remembered most was lying with her ear pressed against his chest.

Listening to his heartbeat.

Its steadiness and warmth had made her feel so safe in those moments.

Like maybe she would be treasured. Maybe she could be.

His heartbeat was what she remembered most.

And then, three nights later, he'd come by again, and everything had fallen apart.

After dinner, her mom had asked her to go pick up her grandfather from the airport, and she'd reluctantly agreed, but when she'd asked Anthony if he wanted to go with her, her mom had stopped him from doing so, which she'd admittedly thought was a little... weird.

But at the time, Meg hadn't really questioned it... in fact, she'd wondered if maybe her mom just wanted to get to know the boy she was dating a little bit better. Deep down, she'd actually been pretty happy about it, because to her it was a sign that maybe her parents did actually care about her. Like, maybe they did want her to end up happy with the right person someday.

She'd walked out of the house, purse on her arm, beaming to herself.

Beaming with hope.

But upon making it to the car door, she'd realized she'd forgotten the keys, so, she'd turned around, digging in her purse as she'd gone back in. Right in the middle of asking her mother if she knew where the keys were, she'd looked up... and every part of her heart had first gone ice cold before shattering into a million pieces, pieces that had faded away inside her like stardust.

Her purse had hit the floor.

She'd stood there, frozen, staring at them.

Unable to look away, everything inside her breaking apart, shattering.

Her mom, shirt off, bra exposed.

On top of him.

On top of the one person who'd given her something to dream for, the one person who'd somehow managed to make her believe that maybe love was something she could actually reach, the one person who had managed to put a band-aid over her many-times busted heart.

The person with that warm heartbeat.

The heartbeat that had never, not even for a second, truly been beating for her.

She would never, as long as she lived, forget the smug little smile that Lois had given her as she'd sweetly, nasally, questioningly said, "um... rape?"

As if it were a joke.

As if it were some small little thing that she could say, 'oopsie,' over.

Meg shook her head violently, lifting her hands to her ears, blocking out the sound of her own heavy breathing, fighting the urge to cry. It was in the past. Anthony was in the past. He was liar like everyone else had been, there was no point in dwelling on his actions, or her mom's.

And yet... she couldn't help but wonder if her mom was doing it again.

She even wondered, for the longest moment, what Mike would do, if she was... but for whatever reason, her heart grew heavy at the thought, and she sighed, turning her eyes out the side window, because she knew firsthand that she could never and would never be able to give her heart to someone else again, so it didn't matter regardless. Her heart was far too broken now from all the times it had been shattered into pieces by someone and then clumsily scooped back together.

By Kevin, the liar who had never once loved her.

By Adam, the liar who had promised to save her and treasure her and give her all the things she had never once been allowed to have, only to abandon her in favor of her aunt.

By Anthony, the liar who cheated on her with her own mother.

By Quagmire, the liar who had tried to manipulate her into having sex with him, to use her once like a cheap toy and then leave her like he'd done to absolutely every other woman he'd ever met.

And by Toby... by far the worst of them all.

Meg shuddered violently, hugging herself and digging her fingers into her side, right on the scars lying hidden under her shirt. The scars she'd never told anyone about because nobody had cared or noticed when she'd come home disheveled and bleeding...

A sudden bang tore her out of her mind.

The front door had suddenly slammed open and Mike, red-faced with purple veins visibly throbbing violently in his throat and forehead, came storming out of the house with her chair, lips drawn back in a vicious snarl over his teeth. Meg balked, eyes bugging wide, because she had never seen him that mad, not even when he'd beat the snot out of her two years ago.

He hefted her wheelchair, forcefully dropped it into the back of the truck, and stomped his way around to the front of his truck, only to stop, shaking, when Lois suddenly appeared with the front of her beige pants unbuttoned and her shirt halfway off.

She called something inaudible.

"NO! FUCK YOU!" he roared back, flipping both his middle fingers. "YOU'RE MARRIED AND I'M A FUCKING HIGH SCHOOLER, YOU CREEPY OLD HAG! DON'T YOU EVER TRY THAT SHIT WITH ME AGAIN! YOUR DAUGHTER DESERVES WAY BETTER THAN A DIRTY OLD SKANK LIKE YOU!"

Meg wheezed in shock, clutching her mouth with her eyes bugging behind her glasses.

Similarly, her mother seemed outraged and shell-shocked.

"Excuse you?!" Lois screeched at him. "Do you want me to call the cops on you?!"

"YEAH, ACTUALLY! DO IT, HAG! MY DAD IS THE FUCKING CHIEF OF POLICE!" Mike furiously bellowed at her, beating his chest twice with a fist. "EVEN IF YOU DON'T CALL HIM, YOU CAN BET YOUR SAGGY, WRINKLY ASS I'LL BE SURE TO TELL HIM EXACTLY WHY THESE WORDS LEFT MY LIPS THE SECOND I GET HOME! YOU'LL BE DAMN LUCKY IF YOU DON'T GET SUED FOR SEXUALLY ASSAULTING A MINOR!"

"Minor?!" her mom screamed; her voice was muffled but audible. "But you're a senior!"

"I FUCKING SKIPPED A GRADE, MORON!" Mike bellowed. "I'M ONLY SEVENTEEN! AND WHO GIVES A SHIT?! AN OLD BAT LIKE YOU SHOULDN'T BE GOING AFTER HIGH SCHOOL STUDENTS ANYWAY, ESPECIALLY SINCE I JUST TOLD YOU I'M DATING YOUR DAUGHTER!"

"So what?!" Lois screeched back. "Why not just enjoy it?! You said I'm attractive, right?!"

"EXCUSE ME?!" the boy roared back, puffing his chest. "I WAS BEING POLITE! YOU'RE THE ONE WHO WAS PRESSURING ME TO GIVE YOU AN ANSWER ABOUT IT! YOU'RE THE ONE WHO WAS ACTING WEIRD AND ASKING ME INAPPROPRIATE QUESTIONS LIKE THAT! YOU'RE ACTUALLY SUPER FUCKING DISGUSTING! I WOULDN'T TOUCH YOU WITH A FIFTY FOOT POLE!"

"Fine, be that way!" Lois snapped. "You can't prove I did anything!"

"SAYS THE MORON LITERALLY IN VIEW OF MY TRUCK'S DASHCAM!" Mike screamed back, kicking his own vehicle for good measure. "KEEP YOUR SLEAZY FINGERS TO YOURSELF! DIRTY SKANK!"

Meg's jaw dropped open so wide that she was shocked it didn't break off.

Lois's face turned beet red when Mike drew back and spit in her direction, then the boy turned and yanked the driver's door open, climbing in with a string of vulgar profanities, breathing hard. He threw the vehicle in reverse and pealed out of the driveway, zooming down the road.

His knuckles were white, and his face was still flushed almost purple.

Meg stared at him, unsure of what to do, and most of all... feeling incredibly guilty because of her mother's actions. After a moment of thought, she tentatively reached out and set a hand on his arm. He flinched, glancing down at it for a split second, before returning his eyes to the road.

"Shit... I shouldn't have lost my temper," he spit through gritted teeth; he suddenly kicked the bottom of his truck, throwing his head around violently and screaming, "FUCK!"

Meg flinched.

Honestly, his anger issues and his temper scared her more than a little, but she didn't remove her hand. After a few more minutes of seething, Mike finally took a deep breath, in through his nose, and then let it out through his mouth, visibly trying to calm down.

"I shouldn't have lost my fucking temper," he repeated, clenching his jaw. "I should have just... left without a word. I might have made things worse for you by exploding the way I did. Worst case scenario, your folks might try to stop me from helping you."

Meg scowled, then flipped open her notepad and wrote down, "I'm eighteen years old. They can't and, most importantly, won't do that. They don't care enough to."

He waited until the next stop sign to look.

"They could kick you out," he noted, and she hesitated, because this was true. "Or they could hurt you worse than they already have and do. Considering you're already being abused... I'm honestly the biggest fucking idiot on the planet for provoking your mom the way I did."

Meg winced.

He was right, actually - she knew for a fact that the second she went back home, something bad was likely going to happen because of this situation, but still... more than anything else, she was grateful. Mike was the very first person who had ever stood up to her mother like that.

He had... yelled at Lois.

Screamed that she, Meg, of all people,deserved a better mother.

"Your mom is a total psycho," he sourly grumbled, and she twitched when she realized he was clutching his crotch with a grimace of pain. "The second I walked in she unzipped her pants. She literally grabbed my hand and tried to force my hand down them, and then she tried to kiss me, and when I pulled away, she... she grabbed my balls and tried to yank me towards her."

Meg flinched and squeezed her eyes shut for a second. After taking a few deep breaths, she opened them and reluctantly wrote down, 'I'm so sorry.'

He waited until the next stoplight, then glanced at the writing.

His handsome face contorted.

"Why the fuck are you apologizing?" he scoffed, amber eyes flicking up and drilling angry little darts into her face. "You're not responsible for anybody but yourself. Not even your parents. Kids don't get to choose where they come from, and honestly? I think I can sincerely understand why you were putting up with the fucking bullying. Your home really is hell."

She blinked; he scowled.

Meg smiled.

Mike stared.

"Why are you smiling?!" he snapped. "I'm being serious here! This is super fucked up!"

Meg just shrugged and faced forward, unable to wipe the grin from her lips.

If anything, it just grew wider.

He grumbled to himself for a little bit, still clutching between his legs with a grimace, but after a time he snatched his phone. He waited until the next stoplight to look at the screen - which was actually really responsible of him, Meg was beginning to notice - before fiddling with it.

He tapped a few times, then put it to his ear, eyes on the stoplight.

Meg studied him, watching the way his burly chest rose and fell, studying his strong, hooked nose.

His mouth twitched and he suddenly straightened up. "Hey, Pops. It's me."

Meg blinked when a tinny, garbled voice came through the other end, and her brows lifted when Mike winced, but after realizing she was looking at him, he put the call on speaker.

" - orking right now, and you should be in class, so why the hell are you calling me, Boy?" a deep, unfamiliar rumble of a voice demanded. "You'd better not be in trouble again, so help me God."

"Sorry, I probably will be in a bit of minor trouble this coming Monday," Mike said honestly, albeit reluctantly, then took a deep breath; he suddenly hit the accelerator, and Meg realized it was because the light had turned green. "I'm taking the rest of the school day off."

"Michael Pulaski," the deep voice said in a calm, threatening way, "you had better have a damn good reason for skipping your classes, because if you don't, I'm gonna beat your ass so hard you'll be shitting out of your teeth for the next three months. Explain. NOW."

Meg cringed, horrified, but Mike didn't even seem fazed.

In fact, he just rolled his eyes with a cute, lopsided grin.

"Calm down, Old Man," he drawled, eyes going half-lidded. "I'm not doing this because I wanna play hookie, and you and I both know that even if I did, I'm well ahead of everybody in the whole damn grade. Attendance aside, I can afford to take off a week, at least, before my grades suffer."

"God dammit, Mike - "

"Dad," he said seriously, and Meg blinked, because the man on the other end fell silent. "I left because I'm trying to help someone who really fucking needs help right now. With the situation she's presently stuck in, her life is literally at risk. I'm bringing her over to our place, alright?"

There was silence for a long time from the other end.

A bead of sweat ran down Meg's temple as she listened.

Then...

"Is it... the... the bullied girl... you told me about?"

Meg's face went slack in surprise just as the boy turned to look at her, staring her down.

"Yeah," Mike confirmed, eyes hardening. "I'm having her stay with us for the weekend. I'll be sure to fork over some cash from my part time job for some extra groceries if you - "

"Oh, shut the fuck up, you annoying brat," Mike's father deadpanned, and the blonde boy snorted, grinning despite the harsh words. "I can afford to feed another mouth for a weekend. You just make sure you have the right sort of bedding and pillows for the fold-out couch before I get there, because if we're having our usual weekend shows with a girl present, we need to be courteous. And clean your damn room already! It smells like feet, cigarettes, and corn chips every time I get home!"

"Dad, what the fuck," Mike scoffed, making a face. "My room is fine. Even my bed is made."

Meg stared at him, sincerely taken aback by the odd aggressiveness between them, and even more so by the fact that the hulking blonde boy didn't really seem bothered by it. If anything, he actually seemed to really enjoy it, judging by the amused smiles passing across his face.

"It still reeks!" his father scolded. "Spray some Febreze in that stinky room of yours if you're bringing a girl over, dammit! And stop smoking, too! Use the damn nicotine patches!"

She watched as Mike sighed heavily, rolling his eyes. "Whatever, Old Man. Anyway, I'm taking my friend here to the mall to grab a few things right now, and if it's late enough, we'll probably eat out. I should be home with her around six or seven. Also, I'll make sure you've got dinner waiting when you get home from work, so don't grab yourself takeout again, a'ight?"

Silence came from the other end, followed by a long sigh. "Fair enough. I love you, Son."

"Love you, too, Pops. Talk more soon," Mike said back, then used his thumb to end the call. He pocketed his cellphone, wriggling his jaw back and forth, then he cast Meg a sideways glance. She blinked when she noticed the tips of his ears turning red. "Just for the record, it doesn't smell like feet or corn chips... it's really not that bad. He's just being a dick."

Meg bit her lip to fight it back, but she couldn't help the wheezy little laugh that escaped her. The redness in his ears went lower as her shoulders shook with mirth, reaching his cheeks and even his neck a little. He coughed and shook himself off, awkwardly straightening his back.

"Only fair to laugh at me, I guess," he said, sounding rather calm for someone whose nose was reddening; his lips then twisted into a shit-eating grin. "I did, after all, see all your panties."

Before she could think about it, Meg playfully swatted his shoulder with the back of her hand. It was only when he glanced at her blankly that her smile froze. She was terrified for the longest moment that she'd just fucked up beyond repair, that by doing that she'd ruined everything.

He was Mike Pulaski.

The solid wall of muscle who could literally destroy people with ease.

She had just swatted the shoulder of someone who terrified the hell out of her.

What the hell was she thinking?!

He was gonna -

She flinched when he suddenly snorted, rolling his eyes and looking at the road ahead, and for a moment she thought maybe he was going to let it go... but then... without warning, he gently swatted her arm in return. Her heart jumped violently, and it took her a second to process.

Meg worriedly glanced at him through her hair, but he didn't look at her again.

"When we get to the mall, we'll check shit out," he said, sinking down and relaxing in his seat, keeping only one hand on the wheel. "I personally think you should get yourself some new clothes, and by that, I mean something other than some pink t-shirts. For real, if you wanna wear pink, I actually have some ideas. We'll poke around and see what we can find, yeah?"

Ideas? Meg wondered, instantly feeling weird. Do I even want to know?

Part of her didn't.

But honestly?

The rest of her was undeniably, inexplicably curious about these so-called ideas.