Dear No One (Wattys2017) (UNDER CONSTRUCTION)

Dear No One, How Do I Hit The Ground Running

For being such a defensive technique, self defense is incredibly intimate.

From the second Callum had flipped me over on to my back to me doing my best to escape his tight grasp around my wrists, we were closer than I knew he was comfortable with. Somehow he managed to keep his face emotionless and didn't give my hands against or beside him a second glance.

By the time the class began to wind to an end, I was propped against the back wall, so exhausted I could barely hold my eyes open. I had run for two miles a few weeks out of recovery after Tommy died, and it still hadn't drained me as much as this class had.

"Need water?" Mr. Baxter stood over me, his outstretched hand gripping an icy water bottle. My eyes followed the dewy droplets of water as they slid down the blue wrapper of the bottle for a moment before I hesitantly took it from him and held it against my forehead.

"Thank you, sir." I responded with my best attempt at a smile. He scratched at the back of his head with one hand and waved my manners off with a smile

"No need for the formality, Kasey." he stayed quiet for a few minutes, "I'm happy to see that Callum has finally found someone he has something in common with." I knew he was trying to break the ice, cut the tension hanging in the air between us.

"Yeah." I mumbled, dropping my head. I could still feel his eyes burning holes through the top of my head.

"He's had it rough, you know. Even as a child, when he lost his mother, he tried to pull it off and act as if everything was okay. It seemed like his first year of high school, he just stopped caring altogether." I shifted uncomfortably in the small space I had sat in between a table and a mini-fridge, my mouth growing dry.

"Look, Kasey. I know my son can be overbearing and crude sometimes, but he has a heart somewhere under all those hoodies he wears. He has a heart that's been begging for a companion for years." he scratched at his head again, "I thought my stepson, Eric, would be that. But all he has ever done is torture my poor boy and put him through hell."

The air grew cold as I focused my eyes on the cap of the water bottle, my lips parting as I tried to find something to say, "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize." Mr. Baxter shook his head, "Just. . . just know that my boy has baggage and know what you're getting yourself into. I'm tired of seeing him-"

"Dad! Can't you leave her alone?" Callum shoved his Dad's arm playfully, "She's obviously uncomfortable."

Mr. Baxter exchanged a look with his son before slapping a hand against his shoulder, "I hope you've offered the poor girl dinner. She looks famished."

We watched in silence as Callum's father headed back to the front of the room, immediately bombarded by a few housewives lingering around the room.

"Sorry about him." Callum grumbled, "Are you hungry?" He reached for his hoodie beside my purse with a small smile. "Thanks for washing it."

"I could eat." I replied, rising to my feet awkwardly. "But my parents would probably kill me if I ate out."

"Why?" Callum looked shocked by my answer.

"Mom got a bad case of food poisoning a couple years ago at a restaurant and has been set on the conspiracy that all restaurants are out to poison customers." a genuine laugh left Callum then. My head whipped toward him by the door, my eyes on him. He had a half smile on his face, but there was an amused look in his eyes that made me feel like a champion. I had gotten him to laugh, a normal bitter less laugh.

"Well, I guess I'll just have to drop you off back at home then, won't I?"

*

The car ride was peaceful. Callum's car was set on a quiet classic rock playlist that had been on repeat for the last ten minutes. He didn't really seem to mind the repetitiveness, it almost looked as if he actual found it nice, to have the same songs play over again.

"So, you're Dad said you lost your mother when you were a kid." I broke the silence with a quick glance in his direction. I waited for a wince or even a flushing in the cheeks, but his face remained a clean canvas with no emotion.

"Great conversation starter." he hit his turn signal as he spoke, lips a thin line, not allowing any emotion to break through.

"Sorry." I lowered my head, blushing, "I was just going to give you my condolences. My brother-"

"I know all about your brother, Kasey. It wasn't the same thing. My mother had breast cancer, your brother was just a psychopath." My head whipped in his direction, my hands clenched on my lap.

"Just let me out. I'll walk the rest of the way home." I snapped.

"No." He shrugged his shoulder, "As hard as it may be for you to hear, Kasey, it's the truth. Your parents know it, your siblings know it, you know it, you're just afraid to accept it."

I looked away quickly, my eyes finding a tree out the window and staying trained on it until the car finally slowed to a stop at a red light.

"I'm sorry." Callum muttered, "That was uncalled for. I shouldn't have said it."

I laid my head against the window, watching the spot my breath had left against it in silence.

"Kasey, I'm sorry." He tried again, "What I said was wrong, alright?"

"It wasn't." I whispered, "Nothing you say is ever wrong and I hate it." He opened his mouth, looking ready to respond, but I went on before he could .

"From the second I actually had a conversation with you, I knew that there was something there, Callum. I knew that we were too much alike and it scared the crap out of me. I'm sorry you had to take the burden of my rape, and I thank you for it. There's no way I'll ever be able to repay you." I opened the door once the car was in park, "But I don't think it's a good idea for us to be friends, Callum. You're just going to be kicked down even more and I don't want that."

I started up my driveway with the tears that had started sting my eyes finally starting to escape. Halfway to my house, I felt Callum's hand catch my elbow. He spun me around until I was facing him, his blue eyes showing the first sign of emotion all night; and it was desperation.

"My scars aren't from my father or stepmom or whatever you might thing." he started to unzip his hoodie and set it in my arms as he pulled his t-shirt over his head. I winced at the sight of the welts and scars along his chest an abdomen the same as I had the first time I'd seen them.

"I do it to myself." he gestured toward his scarred shoulders, "I do it to feel half the amount of pain that my mother went through during chemo and all that other bullshit. I did it for that. When I. . . when everything happened with you, I did it even more to feel what you were. Because I hated myself for not being able to protect you from him. I could have stopped it." I felt my breath catch in my throat as he pointed at the tattoo written in a beautiful calligraphy across his chest.

"The word, Warrior, isn't describing me. I'm anything but. It's describing my mother, who had the world crush her into the ground and was still able to fight. Its for you and every other girl out there that lost themselves somewhere along the way after assault or tragedy." he looked so desperate, so hurt and vulnerable that I did the first thing that came to mine.

I pushed forward on my feet and wrapped my arms around the back of his neck before pulling him down and kissing him. 

***AN***

Hope you guys enjoyed! I will be going through and editing for the Wattys soon, so be prepared for the chapters to reappear as updated. 

Let me know what you thought!

~ChasingMadness24