Repaired

Chapter Ten

Annabelle

Cole looked terrible. He was covered in blood, though it didn't seem to be his. He smelled very, very strongly of alcohol. So strongly that I thought I might become drunk myself just by being near him.

"Hey, Belle. How are you?" He said, wincing as he stood up straight.

"Cole, are you okay?" I asked as he threw his arm over my shoulder. I brought him into the dining room and he sat down.

"Oh, yeah. I'm fine. Just a tad sore." He replied. I rushed and got the medical kit, trying to remember all the stuff Dad had taught me about patching wounds. I examined how bad the cuts were, and found that I was right, it couldn't have been his blood. He didn't have enough cuts to bled this much.

As I started to clean his arm wounds, he took in a sharp breath. "Jesus, Princess. That stings." He whispered.

I looked at him questioningly, before he realised what he had said. He looked a little embarrassed at his new nickname.

"New nickname? For me? A little cliché, but I like it." I said. He laughed slightly, smiling a little. "I thinks it's adorable, just like you." He said, patting the top of my head.

As I was starting to clean up one of the cuts on his bicep, he stopped me and took his shirt off. I was caught off guard by this, because although I had known Cole for a long time,  I had never once seen him shirtless.

As I continued patching him up, I noticed that his back was covered in scars. They were long and thick, like he was struck repeatedly with a rope or something. They didn't look like fresh wounds, though. They appeared to be healed or healing.

After he was all bandaged up, I picked up my phone and saw I had a missed text from Dad, saying that him and Catherine were staying out at his friends house for the night. I sighed, relieved that I wouldn't have to hide Cole from him.

"What's up, princess?" Cole asked me, attempting to stand. At this point, I wasn't sure if it was the alcohol or the pain, but he almost fell over. I quickly grabbed him, doing my best to steady him. I lead him up the stairs and into my room, making sure he was laid safely on my bed before going to get him some water.

When I gave him the glass, he accepted it quickly and drank fast. I was confused about, well, most of what had transpired up until that point. Why was he in such bad shape? Why was he acting weird? Where are the scars from? Finally, I decided it best to ask him.

I sat down on the bed beside him, and hugged him tightly, and only once he let go did I ask him my questions. "Cole, where did the scars on your back come from?" I asked him. He had laid down, and pulled blanket over him.

"I have no idea what you're talking about." He said.

"Cole, you ass, you know exactly what I'm talking about. Now tell me, where did they come from?" I said, a little more frustrated than I should've been. Cole sat up, appearing almost sober.

"Belle, I don't want you to know. You can't know. It'll hurt you too much. It's fucked me up beyond belief, and it will fuck you up, too." He said, his face stone cold, except for a hint of sadness in his eyes.

"Cole, tell me. Now. I guarantee you that it won't hurt me, I just want to help you through this. I think I really love you, Cole." I said, my words tumbling out faster than I could filter them. We sat in silence for a moment, before Cole finally spoke up.

"You don't know what you're getting yourself into by loving me, do you?" He asked me. I smiled at him, taking in his features carefully.

"No, I don't.  But how bad can it be?" I replied. He chuckled a little before laying down. He motioned for me to do the same, and I obliged.

"Belle, my father used to be a great dad. He would always take my brother and I to the baseball pitch, out for ice cream, basically do whatever we wanted. He and my mom were great parents. I remember that every Saturday we would go to our beach house and camp out in sleeping bags. It was great." Cole said, his voice warm and reminiscent. He had wrapped his arms around me, holding me like he was afraid to lose me.

"What happened?" I asked him.

"Well, one day my mom left. No reason, no trace. All she left was a note saying that she couldn't be caught up in the same life as he was, and that she hoped she would never see him again. She just left us. That was my father's breaking point. He threw himself farther into the world. Long story short, Belle, he got caught up with bad people and with me being the eldest child, I was expected to hold my own. And that's how all the scars happened."

As he finished his story, I felt my heart sink. "What world was he caught up in?" I asked.

"I can't tell you. It's not safe." Cole whispered.

"Cole, tell me." I said. I moved myself so that I could look into his eyes, and saw that he had tears streaming down his face.

"Belle, Anabelle, I can't. It's just not safe. It will be safe one day, I promise. But not right now. I couldn't live with myself if you got hurt." He whispered.  He let go of me, and sat up. I followed suit, and when I sat up, he kissed me. It was just a quick kiss on the cheek, but it was gentle.

"Cole, listen to me. No one and no thing is going to hurt me. And I'm not going anywhere. I'm going to be here with y'all forever. Hell, I'm going to haunt you guys when I die. So tell me,  please Cole. Tell me." I pleaded. He pulled me in close, hugging me.

He looked very deep in thought for a moment, before eventually speaking.
"Belle, do you know the Crows Nest? The gang?" He asked me. I nodded, so he continued. "Please don't look at me differently after what I tell you." He took a sharp breath in. "My father is the head man, he runs it, like Escobar. And I'm supposed to be taking over when he either dies or when he steps back."