Delinquent (Marshall Lee x Reader)

Part 22

I didn't know how it had gotten so complicated so quickly. It all happened at once—one night and one person. And now I wasn't sure if my life would ever be the same. I just didn't know if it was a bad thing or a good thing. I was almost uncaring about it. Apathetic about my own situation. I just didn't care anymore. I vaguely wondered if this was what real depression is supposed to feel like, this—this emptiness.

Once I gulped down the water I realized that I needed to pee. Like, I really needed to pee.

Eventually I made it to Marshall's bathroom and nearly gasped when I looked at my disheveled appearance in the mirror. Deja vu much?

After I fixed myself up and got out, he was back in his room, leaning against the wall. He glanced up at me as soon as I entered the room and took a step towards me.

"(Y/N)?"

When I didn't respond or go closer to him, he came up to me and gently held my face in his hands. "Princess?" Instead of the usual cockiness that comes along with the pet-name, this sounded affectionate and filled with concern.

I still couldn't meet his eyes. I saw his throat bob up and down with a swallow. "(Y/N), Look at me."

His tone was a mixture of demanding and pleading. I obliged, and the expression in his bright eyes was enough to make my heart shatter.

For a moment, we just stood like that, staring into each other's eyes. Then he spoke: "First things first, I need to know if you are okay. Are you in pain?"

"I'm fine. It only hurts a bit."

"Where?" he retorted immediately. "Do you need medicine? Bandages? A doctor?"

I could've chuckled at his ridiculous concern. "No, it's not that big of a deal. Besides being sore all over, it mainly hurts around my ribs area. And my thighs in a few places. And a cut reopened on my back."

His eyebrows furrowed. "That is a big deal. Let me see."

"No, I can deal with it myse—"

"Let me see," he interrupted. This time his voice was stern. He would not take no for an answer.

I looked down and awkwardly lifted my shirt, showing the ugly black and blue bruises that scattered my torso and the random cut from a whipping weeks ago that had reopened and was covered with crusty blood.

He sucked in a breath. I looked up at him to see him take a step back, his eyes scanning my body. I suddenly felt his hands touching me and my whole body shivered. His hands grazes over the fresh bruises and old scars on my stomach. He maneuvered to look at my back, fingertips barely grazing my skin, as if the slightest bit of pressure would hurt me. The gentleness felt foreign to me. Then his hands moved down to my legs, still partially covered in fishnet tights. They grazed over every little scar, even ones I had forgotten about. I looked at his face and noticed something.

"Are you...crying?" There were tears sparkling in his eyes.

"Goddamnit (Y/N). Yeah I'm crying." He removed his hands and stepped back. His whole body was tense, his hands in tight fists. When I looked at his eyes again, I saw blind rage in them.

He closed his eyes and bit his lip, as if trying to his back emotion.

"I should've done something." His voice sounded like he was in agony.