safe in my arms | solangelo au | under editing

Chapter One

tw: implied abuse and alcohol abuse

Nico

Please... I close my eyes as I run. Please don't let him catch me.

I dash around the corner and almost slam into the wall. I need it get out. I need to. I'm not sure where I'm going, but I'm sure that it will be safer than here. The walls seem to close in around me as I run, desperate, tears brimming in my eyes.

The apartment building is only ten floors high, and once I'm in the lobby, where people tend to hang out, he'll have no choice but to make a scene. I might be helped. I might have a chance.

I'm almost at the elevator when he catches me.

He grabs the back of my shirt and pulls me backwards, choking me in the process. I whimper as he slips his hand over my throat and tightens his grip a little.
"Where are you going?" He asks, a hint of anger in his voice. I can smell the alcohol on his breath as he leers over my shoulder. He's angry. And guess who he's going to take it out on?

"I..." A small sob escapes me."I'm sorry."
"Trying to leave!" His grip tightens and I feel a tear leak from the corner of my eye. He doesn't like it when I cry.
"L-Luke..." I cough.

His fingers loosen, but he grabs my hair. To anybody else, it would look like he's running his fingers through my hair, but I can feel him pulling at it.

He pulls me after him as he leads me to his apartment. "Please!" I beg, trying to fight back. He pulls me into our rooms and slams the door. "Please..." I look up at him through my tears. "Just let me leave! I won't tell anybody! I swear..."

I know it's hopeless.
"Nico." He snarls. "I gave you a home. I accepted you, loved you, when nobody else would. And this is how you repay me?"
"I'm sorry!"
"You're not!" He shouts. "You're not sorry!" He slaps me across the face as I try to shield his blows with my arms.
"I am!" I cry.

"You're nothing. He spits, stopping. "A worthless, useless piece of junk! No wonder nobody likes you."
"I..." He punches me this time, hitting my cheek and causing me to fall to the floor. Three months
ago, I may have been strong enough to withstand the abuse, but since then Luke has been monitoring my food more strictly than ever, and I barely have enough to keep my energetic up.

"Worthless." Luke repeats, storming off. I stay on the floor for a while, then quietly get up. I try the door. It's locked.

I should have run faster. Or maybe I shouldn't have even left. Luke is right. I'm worthless. Nobody else would want me; I'm lucky to have him. Even when he's angry, it's better than nothing. I'm sure I can handle it.

I'm sure that, deep down, he cares.