Ch. 13

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Y/n POV

I couldn't tell if the streaks down my face were from tears or from the scorching hot bath but I didn't care about either. All I could do was replay tonight's events over and over in my head. The events from tonight collided with past memories and I couldn't tell what happened when.

It wasn't my fault. No matter what I did or thought it will never be my fault. But that doesn't mean I deserved it. I didn't deserve any of it.

No one does.

No one deserves to be catcalled, no one deserves to be touched without permission. No one deserves to have hands laid on them in any way.

Life is unfair. Or is life fair because life's unfair to everybody?

But why?

Why does this have to happen to me.

Why me?

I was just starting to heal and move on from everything and my past just comes back to haunt me and history repeats itself.

Smelling their hot alcohol stenched breath. Feeling their hands all over me. Hearing the unwanted words. It haunts me.

My thoughts were interrupted when I felt Daichi's hand touch my arm. He gave me an unreadable look which I didn't care to decipher.

"I made soup" was all he said to bring me back to reality and realize my once hot water was now lukewarm, almost cold even.

He started to drain the tub and I just sat and watched him, not bothering to move an inch. I couldn't move. I felt frozen, like my body wasn't mine.

Once the water was gone he draped a towel over my body and I stayed in the same place, no motivation to get up and dress myself.

"Do you need me to help you?" He broke the icy silence.

I looked up at him with pleading eyes. I don't want to speak. My words failed me earlier and they fail me now.

He whispers an okay and helps me stand to my feet. I look straight in the mirror and stare at my reflection. At my body. All the imperfections and insecurities.

Daichi proceeds to dry me off and I break contact with myself to look at him. He's focused and looks almost mad. I can tell he wasn't looking at my private areas and tried to keep them covered as he finished drying.

He grabbed the t shirt and slipped it over my head and down my torso. Then grabbed the pair of underwear he picked out and kneeled down to hold it in front of me. I placed a hand on his shoulder and stuck one leg in at a time, noticing he was keeping his eyes trained on his hands and slipped the panties up my legs until they were perfectly settled on my hips.

Once I was fully dressed he bowed in front of me insinuating to get on his back to which I obliged to. He carried me down the stairs and into the kitchen. If he was so fit I would have assumed he was sore.

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