Sam
I hadn't slept all night. Not an entire wink, my mind torturing me with replays of the event like a cruel movie and I could do nothing but stare up at the ceiling with a pool of dread unshifting in the bottom of my stomach. Surely this was it for us. I had crossed the line, she wasn't going to stay after that.
My only indication that it was morning was the sound of someone knocking on the front door. I shot out of bed, foolishly hoping that our early morning visitor would be Rory but as I got closer, I realised it was instead her dad.
"Where is he?" Jamie demanded. I couldn't see him as he was hidden by my mam who stood in the doorway, blocking him but it wasn't hard to hear the anger in his voice.
"Reet here," I sighed, bowing my head in shame as his eyes landed on me over my mam's shoulder.
"I'm not telling yer to go easy on him but..." my mam began as she turned to stare at me with pursed lips, the disappointment rife in her eyes. "Please, don't kill him."
Jamie nodded as he stepped around my mother, tilting his head toward the direction of the kitchen in a gesture to follow him. I swallowed the lump that had grown at the back of my throat and obeyed his wishes.
"She told yer then?" I gulped, unable to meet his eyes. I could feel the anger radiating from him like steam from a kettle.
"The handprint on her fuckin' arm told me all I needed to know!" he growled.
I recoiled. I had never witnessed this side of Jamie, in fact, I didn't think I had ever seen him angry and it was certainly never aimed at me. Not even when we had broken up. On multiple occasions. "Listen, you've got every right to be pissed at us-"
"You're damn well right I do!" he interjected, slamming a fist down on the table in front of him and startling me.
"I'm pissed at myself," I finished after recovering from my shock at his outburst. "And if yer want to hit us, you're more than welcome, I'm not gan stop ya. It's the least I deserve, but please know... I feel awful. I love your daughter so much and I never in a million years thought I would ever hurt her but I have and I'll spend every day of the rest of my life making it up to her- that's if she even still wants to be with me after this."
"You're rambling," he snapped quietly, rubbing his jaw to relieve the tension held in his large figure.
"Reet," I stumbled, taking a shaky breath in a vain attempt to calm myself down. "I'm sorry. For everything. I don't blame yer if you hate my guts now."
He let out a frustrated groan as he tipped his head backwards. "I don't hate you, Sam," he huffed. "And I'm not gan hit you. Clearly, Dean's already done that for me."
"Yeah," I mumbled, subconsciously reaching up to touch my tender nose. Luckily, it wasn't broken. It could have been a lot worse.
"And yes, yer did deserve it," he grumbled. "I dunna what happened between yous, Rory's adamant that she's not telling us but I know it must be bad if Dean punched yer."
"I let my jealousy get the better of me," I admitted shamefully.
Jamie let out a sigh, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment before he gestured for me to sit down and took a seat opposite. "Sam. I've told yer this before... all this anger of yours, it ain't healthy and if you want to bottle it up until you explode then that's on you but when you start hurting everyone around you... they ain't gan stick around for very long... I'll be honest with yer, how Rory's stayed this long, I dunna."
"I don't mean it," I whispered, twiddling my thumbs nervously. "I try, I really do but I always end up worse off... I dunna how she's stuck around either. She deserves better."
"I know, kidda," he sighed. "I can't imagine the past year has been easy for yer either but maybe ya need to look at getting some help. Professionally."
My face flushed in embarrassment at Jamie's suggestion. Me? Go and see a therapist? How fucking pathetic did that sound? "Yeah, mebbies," I mumbled.
"Harriet has really helped Rory... with everything," he continued. I nodded wordlessly. He was silent for a few moments, the conflict raging in his eyes. "Let this be your only warning," he spoke lowly as he pushed himself up from the table and moved nearer to me, fisting the material of my top in his hand and pulling me close. "If you ever lay a finger on my daughter again, I will fuckin' end yer. We clear?"
"Yes, sir," I gulped, nodding my head eagerly.
"Great," he replied with a sickly sweet smile. He released me from his grip and patted my shoulder, not speaking another word as he left the kitchen. The adrenaline was flowing freely around my body as he offered his goodbye to my mother, the faint sound of the front door shutting echoing around the small flat.
Aurora
I felt sick. Physically sick. Especially after my dad found out about the events of the night previous. I hadn't meant for him to find out. In a moment of stupidity, I had absentmindedly taken off my jacket in front of him, revealing my bruised arm. He was absolutely livid, not sticking around to hear my desperate pleas not to hurt my boyfriend.
He didn't tell me what happened when he came back either, which only exacerbated my worry about Sam. It had been hours since my dad had returned and I still had yet to hear from Sam. I hadn't heard from Harlow either, which was suspicious. Usually, she would have made a trip around to see me and Sam by now.
My heart lurched when the doorbell rang, my brain not even processing the sound as my feet raced down the stairs to open the door.
"Sam," I cried in relief, crashing into his chest and curling my arms around his waist.
"Hi," he whispered. He hesitated for a moment before wrapping his arms around me, holding me tightly as though I would disappear if he let go. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you. I'm so sorry. It'll never happen again, I promise yer. I feel fuckin' awful."
"It's alreet," I assured him as my tears soaked his t-shirt.
"No, it's not," he told me, his words filled with shame. "It's not. I shouldn't have grabbed yer, I got jealous and I lost my temper but it's never gan happen again. I promise."
"Ya didn't mean to hurt me, yer just didn't realise, s'all," I mumbled as we parted reluctantly. I let out a gasp as my gaze fell on his face, which adorned a swollen nose, a bruised eye and a thick lip. His swollen nose was courtesy of Dean, possibly his black eye too, but the thick lip was a new addition. "Shit, Sam."
"It's nowt," he shrugged nonchalantly.
"Did my dad do this?" I demanded, lifting his chin with my index finger and tracing his lip with my thumb causing him to wince in pain. "Fuck, sorry."
"No," he assured me. "I did get a few threats but... this was all Harlow."
Of course, it was Harlow. I didn't know why I was expecting anything else. "I'm sorry," I whispered apologetically, the frown on my face deepening.
"It's not your fault," he told me with a soft smile. "Not like I don't deserve it."
"Don't say that," I pleaded.
"It's true," he snorted humourlessly.
Silence engulfed the two of us as we desperately tried to find the words to communicate our feelings but emotions were running high and neither of us knew what to say.
"Did... did yer wanna come in?" I asked hopefully.
"No, no," he replied quickly.
My shoulders dropped in deflation. "Oh."
"Not like- I want to!" he stammered. "I-I... I just don't think it's the best idea reet now. Probably best I stay away for a bit."
"Please, don't," I begged him, reaching out to grab his hand. "I don't want yer to stay away."
"Rory," he sighed.
"No," I spoke firmly. "I'm not accepting that. Yer wanna make it up to me then you've got to be here!"
He swallowed thickly. "Obviously," he agreed hesitantly.
"Get in here," I told him softly, tugging him into the hallway.
"Okay," he whispered, his tone unsure but I could tell he was eager to make me happy. By any means possible.