Lost Girl

Chapter 4

A/N It's still every two days, guys. I have about 4 chapters already written out, so yay for that. :) 

  Diana 
He told me to get comfortable about an hour and half ago, but I've been sitting here tense and uncertain since he climbed on the bed as well. Of course the only TV was in the bedroom, of course. He was too close. The bed was big enough, he could scoot over, but every time I did he'd just move closer, like he was trying to make sure I didn't leave or didn't forget that he was next to me. I was on the edge of the bed now, but I was afraid that if I tried to move over that he wouldn't and I'd be pressed against him and to be honest, the last time I'd touched a guy before earlier was when my dad's friends would come over. I was terrified of touching him, terrified of the reaction I might have. 

But he wouldn't let me move away from him. Like he knew that I was uncomfortable, and he wanted me to get used to him being there. I don't even know what the movie is about, to be honest. I can't even remember what the title was. 

"Are you ok?" He asked, seeming to just notice my discomfort. 
"Can you move over?" I say as an answer, and the twinkle in his eyes definitely does not go unnoticed. 
He does, a fraction of an inch. 
"A little more?" 
Again, just a little bit. 
"Calum." I'm a little annoyed, but not really. He looks happy to be able to tease me, and I still don't know why. 
"You'll have to move me over." He grins, settling in. 
I huff, unsure how to proceed. I still don't want to touch him. The hug in the lobby pushed my limits a bit, but I knew it was harmless, knew it was just a hug. And in front of people, so he couldn't do anything anyway. 

Suddenly, like that thought triggered a self-defense mechanism in my brain, it occured to me that we were in his bedroom, alone. There was no family in the other room, no chaperone. If he wanted to, he could hold me down and I wouldn't be able to fight him, like every other time I met dad's friends. The thought sent ice drilling through me, a reminder that I haven't been able to do anything on my own anyway, and a cold shiver ran down my spine. He could hurt me. He could pin me down, and I'd have more bruises, more scars, more hurt more pain more more more. 
I couldn't breathe, couldn't seem to catch any air in my lungs, and my world narrowed. I put my head between my knees, struggling to regain my balance, my calm. 

He wouldn't hurt me, I know it, he wouldn't, he's nice, he's different, he's not the same. But my body won't accept what I try to tell it, trying to shut itself down. I try to get away from him, thinking the proximity might be triggering me as well, being so close to his body heat. My hand swipes out, knocking the lamp from the bedside table. I can hear it crash to the floor and I know I'll be in trouble for it later, but I try to get out of the bed still, and the sheets are tangling around my legs and I fall, fall out of the bed and onto the floor. I can hear him calling my name, sounding slightly panicked, but it's so dark and I can't see anymore and I still can't breathe, and I'm cold and I don't know anymore, I don't know what's happening and I can't feel anything besides fear even though I know he wouldn't hurt me.

And then, like a switch was flipped, I really don't know anything anymore. 

~*~
Calum

One minute she was fine, I was teasing her about moving even though I knew she was close to falling off. She kept moving away from me, so I kept moving closer. The next, she was hyperventilating, trying to get out of the bed and away from me. I was scared for a minute, scared because I don't know what to do when someone is panicking, and I know it has something to do with her past but she won't fucking tell me so I can't help her and I don't know what to do. 

"Diana!" I call, trying to snap her out of it as I scramble over the side of the bed. She's trying to breathe, trying to keep conscious, but I see the moment her body gives up and she just passes out on the floor by the bed. 

I climb down onto the floor, the movie still playing in the background, and I pick her up, setting her on the bed again. She's small, so she's light, wouldn't be a problem for me even if the bed wasn't right next to me. I pull the duvet up to her chin, tucking her in, and I turn the movie off, knowing it's unlikely I'll be able to watch it. 

I sit on the bed next to her sleeping figure, watching her. She looks so peaceful in sleep, so much younger. I don't really know how old she is, but her eyes make her seem old, so old. She's seen too much, that's obvious, she's known too much. I stroke her hair away from her face, pulling back when she starts to move. Her hair is soft, like silk, and I don't really want to let go, but I don't know what she'd do if she woke and I was touching her. The tension I hadn't really realized was there is gone, the sadness evaporated like water. 

Her body seems so relaxed now, like everything that happened before was nothing. 
I wish I felt the same. 
I still felt helpless, like there was something that I could've done to stop it but I didn't. Maybe if I hadn't teased her, this wouldn't have happened. Maybe she'd be better off without me in her life to fuck things up for her. 
I sighed, studying her features. Her arm was over the sheets now, and she was finally comfortable but... 

I looked closer, seeing something on her arm that I hadn't noticed before. It looked like a bruise, which was normal, shit happens, but it had a shape. 
When I realized that it was shaped like a hand print, the rage that sped through me scared me a little bit. Had this happened when she'd left me the other day? Had she gone home and been abused, beaten, raped? 
A ball of fierce anger tightened in my stomach, and I clenched my fists around some of the strands of her hair on the pillow. How could anyone do such a thing to her? She was innocent, just a girl. 

I got out of the bed, cursing. Why do I feel so strongly toward her when I've only just met her? Surely this isn't normal. I don't even know what her last name is, but the idea of her being hurt makes me want to kill. And considering I'm known in the band for being quite level-headed, that's really surprising. 

"Hey Calum--" I hear from the doorway, and I shush Luke before he can say anything else, walking over and closing the door behind me. I can tell from the cocked eyebrow that this conversation is obviously going to start with her. And I'd tell him, because he needed to know that I was hung up on someone none of us knew anything about. 

"Who was that?" He asks, that brow still fucking cocked. 
God, I'm so angry I could hit him. I could smash that smirk off of his face right now, but I won't. It isn't his fault. None of this is his fault, he doesn't even know anything. Who would do such a thing? Who could? Why would they?

"A girl. She was the maid for my room, and a few days ago she walked in while I was napping..." 
Luke nodded sagely. 
"And you weren't wearing any clothes?" 
I shook my head, and he started laughing, oblivious to the emotions roaring through me. 
I stalked to the kitchen, knowing I had to do something before I snapped and really punched Luke. Where would I be then? An angry band wouldn't accomplish anything. 
But that bruise on her arm. 
I grabbed something from the counter and flung it as hard as I could at the wall. It didn't give me the satisfying shattering sound I was looking for, but when I looked up I found a knife sticking out of the plaster. 

And I was still fucking angry. 

"Mate, you alright?" Luke asked, backing around the counter with his hands up. 
He didn't look frightened, just concerned. And who wouldn't be? I'd just launched a knife at a wall like I was aiming for someone's head. 
"No, I'm not fucking alright." I growled, throwing myself on the couch. 

"That girl in there...she's definitely been abused. She's got a hand shaped bruise, and when I was teasing her she had a fucking panic attack." 
Luke's eyes were burning holes into my head, where I'd dropped it into my hands. I still don't know why I was so hung up on this girl, with all of her problems, but I did know that I wanted to take her away, and I wanted to do it now. 
"Well help her." He said, and I could practically hear him shrug.
"What am I supposed to do? She doesn't want to tell me anything--which makes sense, she just met me yesterday--and I can barely get close to her without her hyperventilating." 

"You hugged her earlier and she was fine right?" 
I looked up at him, frowning. 
"There are pictures all over the internet of you and some girl hugging, and it certainly doesn't look like she minded." 
He whipped out his phone and scrolled down it a bit, obviously on twitter. When he turned it toward me, I wasn't surprised to see me and Diana hugging and yeah, she didn't look like she minded. 
"We'll only be here for another two days, Calum, get it together. What are you going to do?" 
I shook my head, uncertain myself. 

I can't fix all of her problems, I'm not a magician  or a liscenced therapist. But maybe, if she ever learns to trust me, I can get her to come with me, away from here. 

"Well...I came to tell you that Michael wants his t-shirt back, and the guys want to know if you want Pizza Hut. I guess I'll just say yeah." And with that, he left me alone to deal with the serpent in my thoughts. 

I went back into the bedroom to check on her, to make sure that she hadn't woken up confused or something. When I opened the door, I was shocked to see the sweater I'd been wearing earlier--before I took it off and put a t-shirt on--clutched in her hands. She was curled around it, her face buried in the fabric while she dozed. I suppose I must've left it on the bed and forgotten about it or something, because I highly doubt she would've gotten up and grabbed it. 

She looks so cute and innocent and happy, and it feels like, somehow, I've known her my whole life as opposed to a day or two.