mutuality | wroetoshaw

thirty eight

MATILDA.

Six minutes.

Six lonely, vulnerable, freezing cold minutes. I was frozen to the floor, afraid that if I moved I'd be pinned against the floor once more.

It was irrational, I knew that, and I also knew my mind was playing tricks on me. He was gone, and he wouldn't come back, at least I really hoped not.

I was sober now. All of the side effects of the alcohol consumed earlier in the night had now dissipated, the pure terror pushing them all out of my system.

Now all I could do was lie here and shake. Shake because of the cold. Shake because of the fear. Shake because of the shame. Shake just because.

Six minutes.

Six minutes and my name was being called.

Six minutes and there was a rush of footsteps.

"Tilly! Why are you on the fl - fuck," the voice said, his voice said. I knew it was Harry, and I so desperately wanted to open my eyes and see his comforting face but I was terrified if I opened them, his face would be there instead.

"Baby, what happened? Shit, Til, your legs, your arm, your - where does it hurt?"

Too much noise. I stayed completely still, eyes closed so forcefully that tears were starting to fall out.

"Tilly, talk to me, please, what happened?" Harry asks, his voice cracking. He sounded like he was about to cry. "Hey, it's okay, you're okay, but please open your eyes. It's just me, Til. It's just us," he whispers, and he inspires an inner strength, and I just about muster up the courage to open my eyes, the tears all built up flooding out now.

He was on the floor, slouched next to me, his hand wavering over my hair. He was just about to push a strand out of my face when I flinched.

He looked taken aback, then completely horrified.

"Til, you need to tell me what happened. Did someone - did someone hurt you?" He asks, and I go to open my mouth, but no words come out. Instead, I nod.

"Can I lift your head up? Is it okay if I do that?" He asks tenderly, his eyes red and wet from where he'd started to tear up.

"Mhm," I manage, my throat sore from everything that had happened.

Ever so gently, he tucks my hair behind my ears, sliding one of his hands behind my head, lifting it up carefully, and placing it in his lap.

"You're okay, Til. You're okay. I'm going to call an ambulance. I'm getting you checked out," he says, and I don't have it in me to argue with him. Maybe I do need to get checked out. My legs are in agony, my head doesn't feel right and my arm burns.

"My phone. He took my phone," is all I say, the thought of the Polaroid picture in the back being gone making me cry.

"Tilly..." he starts, looking down at me and stroking my hair again.

"You text SOS! What happened?" Another persons voice sounds, and I recognise it to belong to Tobi. He jogs over, his footsteps slowing as he descends upon our situation.

"Fucking hell! Tilda - Harry, what happened?" He asks, kneeling down on the ground next to Harry.

That's what he did. He knelt.

Tobi was not him. I was okay.

"I'm not sure," Harry answers for me. "But her phone is gone, so is her jacket so I'm assuming her card and ID is too. Did you come out with a jacket?" He asks, still stroking my hair.