Is this the final stop? (Toni Shalifoe)

Chapter 38

Toni stands, wearing only her sports bra and joggers, in the bathroom looking at a shell-shocked Shelby. The first time seeing her like this. The blonde immediately looks over her shoulder, and out into the hallway, then she comes in and closes the door.

Shelby takes a hair tie and wraps it around the door handle. A makeshift lock. Toni makes note of that. Her shoulders relax, feeling a sense of security that Dave won't accidentally walk in on this. Whatever this is.

Shelby's eyes find Toni's arm. Toni's bruised arm. Toni sees the scratches on Shelby's hand. They both look upset.

The violence they inflict on themselves and the violence people inflict on them, ever-present.

Toni reaches to grab her sweatshirt, to cover up. Shelby stops her. Shelby wordlessly takes another step towards Toni, who tries to turn away from her. No one has tried to see the side of Toni. The brunette never opened up enough for anyone to even know this side of her.

Shelby gives her a look, and Toni finally puts down the sweatshirt. She faces Shelby. Shelby's hands hesitate, hovering at Toni's bicep. She lightly touches it. The dots are a light purple, Shelby lifts up Toni's arm, seeing if there's anything else.

She gasps. There it is. On the back of her arm. A dark bruise. Palm size.

Shelby covers her face with her hands, and squeezes her eyes shut. But this is when Toni notices Shelby is bleeding.

"Hey—"

Toni's voice startles Shelby. Like she forgot she had one. Toni takes Shelby's hand into both of her own. Shelby tries pulling out of her grasp, but Toni gives her a look. They both exhale.

"My dad—he, he—" Shelby keeps repeating to herself over and over. Not completing any real words, afraid of the sentences she'll finish. She's shaking, the feelings of anger, frustration and fear mixing together.

"We need to clean it, I'll run some warm water," Toni says, swiftly changing the subject.

"No, you need ice, Toni."

Both stubborn in their own ways, Shelby stays put, arms folded. Left over right. Toni rolls her eyes and grabs a towel, turns on the faucet and holds it up to her arm.

"It doesn't even hurt, Shelby."

If I don't squeeze it, Toni thinks.

Shelby perches on the edge of the bathtub, and Toni tosses her towel away. Knowing she won't really need it. Instead, she grabs a washcloth. Toni turns on the faucet, and she waits for a moment as the water runs. The only sound in the bathroom is the water hitting the sink basin. Toni grabs the bar of soap and kneels by Shelby.

Toni takes the blonde's hand again. It looks so different from when they first met. Before, it was flawless. No blemishes, her nails all evenly filed, and flowers painted on her thumbs. But now, there's breaks on her knuckles, dried blood, quickly-forming bruises and a chipped nail on her pointer finger.

Her trigger finger.

"This might—"

Shelby sucks in a breath as she feels the warm washcloth lightly graze over her tender knuckles. "Hurt," Shelby hisses, finishing Toni's sentence through her teeth.

"I don't want you getting an infection," Toni pulls the towel away from her hand, rubs the bar of soap on it and softly places it back over Shelby's knuckles. She cleans the scratches on her hand. She moves to the center of the damage.

Shelby quietly yelps, "Ah!"

Toni furrows her eyebrows and takes a closer look. She sees the tiniest of pebbles. Toni deflates for a moment, and thinks. She looks in another drawer. Then another.