Marvel Imagines

Safe Place ~ S.S.

     Sebastian would put you two before everything else. He would constantly ask about your wellbeing. How are you? How are you feeling? Have you been eating? Have you drunk enough today? Questions like that. He would also make sure that the directors didn't have either of you doing something you weren't comfortable with. He would teach you two life skills that your real parents never did and show you what it was like to live a happy life. He was the best father figure anyone could ask for.

But you never told him that. Neither of you wanted to damage your relationship with him. And you also didn't tell him, or anyone, that you two were in a toxic household and being abused.

"That's all for today guys! You can head home. We won't be filming until next week. Enjoy your weekend!" The director said. Both of your faces fell. Getting to travel for filming was a safe haven. It kept you from having to be at that household. You'd have to spend the weekend there. Some may not see that as a big deal, but in a toxic household, it seemed like forever.

     So, you all went back to your trailers, got out of costume and makeup, said your goodbyes, then parted ways. The atmosphere in the car was anxious. As your brother drove, you could see that his knuckles were white from gripping the steering wheel. Not wanting to say anything, you placed a hand on his arm. A sign of feeling the same emotions. Without taking his eyes off the road, he shrugged your hand off, only to take it in his own. Neither of you moved the rest of the ride home.

     The dreaded moment arrived. You had finally pulled into the driveway. Your parent's cars were there too. Your brother turns off the car. You both sit there for a few moments, dread consuming you two. You bite the bullet and get out first. You trudge up to the steps and unlock the door. Your brother goes in first, something he established since you were able to freely leave the house. You followed shortly, quietly closing the door behind you.

It was quiet. Too quiet.

Your first thought was that they were both passed out.

Oh, how you were wrong.

"Where the hell you've two been?" Your mother's voice sounded from the kitchen. She was leaning against the counter, a bottle in front of her. Your brother instinctively grabbed your hand and pulled you behind him.

"Working." Your brother replied. He kept his replies short. Not wanting to make them mad by overtalking.

"You hear that?" Your mother spoke to your father who was hunched over the kitchen table. "The two useless twins were working." Your father didn't reply, only taking another swig from his own bottle.

"You two are completely worthless you know?" Your mother pushed herself off the counter, swaying from the alcohol in her system. "You two were never wanted to being with. Why don't you just get lost." She walked over to you two. Your brother backed up, shielding you from her.

"We would, but we're underage." Your brother snapped back at her. That got your father's attention.

"You don't talk back, you ungrateful piece of shit!"

"Sorry, sir." Your brother didn't want to make the situation any worse. But it didn't work. Your father stood up, knocking over his chair in the process.

"You know what, I'm tired of this. You two are unwanted pieces of shit! I should get rid of you right now!" What he did next was unexpected.

Your father pulled out a pistol from his belt.

Your brother had reacted quickly enough to pull you down just as he fired it. Hitting the wall behind where you were standing. You were in shock.

     Your brother had the death grip on your hand and arm as he pulled you out of the house. While making your way to the car, the gun went off again. Both of your reactions were a little too late. The bullet grazed your arm, slicing through your jacket and shirt, hitting the car in the process. Your brother put you in the passenger's side and ran to the driver's side. He had the car started and out of the driveway before you could say 'Holy shit'. The gun fired a few more times, hitting the car's bumper as your brother sped down the street. Your brother didn't stop until you noticed that he was going 90 in a 65 zone. You called his name softly. He didn't respond. You called it a little louder.