𝓗𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓽𝓫𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴

𝕾𝖕𝖆𝖌𝖍𝖊𝖙𝖙𝖎

"I'm so fucking scared, Georg," I cried in his arms. "I don't ever want to see him again."

"It's okay. We'll make sure that he doesn't get to you," he assured me, softly stroking my hair. "Now tell me, did you see the man's face?" He asked, completely serious.

"No, my back was pressing against him," I whispered, no tears left to cry. The party had died down, and they had sent everyone away. It was completely silent in the hallway. My scars didn't hurt anymore, but I was still pressing my hand on them, scared to take it off.

A soft knock interrupted our moment of silence, and the door slowly creaked open. Tom stumbled in, clearly wasted, with Bill and Gustav following behind him. I hid my face in Georg's dark sweater, so they wouldn't see my crying face. They sat next to us on the floor in silence, and I felt a hand carefully caress my shoulder. Suddenly, Tom's stomach growled, and the boys started giggling. I couldn't keep myself from smiling a little.

Georg's strong arms lifted me up, my face still buried in his shoulder, and he carried me to the living room, where empty beer cans and red cups were just lying around. We all sat down on the couches, and Gustav and Georg started chatting. I wiped my tears with my sleeve and turned my head to take a look at everyone. Bill and Tom were sitting on opposite sides, not exchanging a single look or a word, and Gustav was updating everyone about his family drama. I raised my head to look at Georg, who was staring back at me.

"Does it still hurt?" he asked, and I looked down at my hand still pressing against my stomach. Everyone was now looking at me, carefully observing my every motion. I shook my head, saying no, and they all seemed satisfied with my answer. Bill got up, went into the kitchen, swiped all the empty cans and bottles off the counter with his hand, and started rattling around. He filled a pot with water, turned on the stove, and placed the pot on it. He opened a drawer and found a pack of spaghetti, which he ripped open and broke the spaghetti strands in half to fit them in the pot.

"You're not supposed to break them, you know," I said, getting up from Georg's lap and walking over to Bill. "And you have to boil the water before you put anything in." I took his hands into mine and took the broken pasta out of them. His hands were warm, and his skin was so soft. I placed the spaghetti on the counter and looked up, meeting his gaze. His face was full of sadness and concern. "I'm sorry, Bill," I said, biting my lip. "Why? What are you sorry for?" he asked in a soft, sad voice. "I didn't mean to yell at you like that... I was just so scared, I couldn't even think straight," he squeezed my hands a bit. "No, no, it's not your fault, Lolita. I'm the one who should apologize. I didn't mean to stress you out more; I just... come here," he said, pulling me closer and embracing me in a warm hug. "I just freaked out because the scars looked fresh, and I know it's none of my business, but what happened?" he asked after we pulled away from each other. "That's a story for another time... I don't want to talk about this now," I replied, my voice breaking. "I, uh, I'm going to go call my friend, okay?" I said and turned around to walk to my room. I passed through the living room, where Gustav and Georg were still chatting, and Tom was drinking something from one of the red cups. I walked into the hallway and through the door of my room.

I lay on my bed and closed my eyes, thinking about what had happened. I didn't know what to expect from Markus now that he was back because I knew how dangerous he could be. I had finally started living my life again, and I had no idea he had already been released from prison. I had to start school in less than two weeks. What if he finds me there?

I found my phone in my purse and dialed Kath, but she didn't pick up. I sighed, placing my phone on the nightstand, and laid back down. Then I started slowly drifting off.

I was awoken by a loud noise. I opened my eyes and saw Tom lying in my doorway. I guessed the noise was him hitting the floor. I quickly walked up to him and shook him a bit, and he just mumbled something about blondes. I took his hand and pulled him further into the room, the strong smell of alcohol hitting my nose as he had spilled vodka all over him. I tried to get him up, but I stumbled over and fell on him. He grunted in pain but still wrapped his hands around me so I wouldn't get away. With no hope of him letting me go, I just lay still on his chest, breathing in the sweet scent of his perfume, but it soon got mixed with the smell of alcohol, so I started breathing through my mouth. In the dark room, I could barely make out the mischievous grin on his face.

"Tom, please let me go and go to sleep, you're wasted," I said, annoyed. He unwrapped his hands from my body, but before I could get away, he took my face in them and slightly opened his eyes. "You're so pretty," he murmured, pulling me closer, so our lips collided in a kiss full of passion. Even though he smelled, tasted and was in fact drenched with alcohol, I didn't want to pull away. We kept kissing, his hands on my ass and mine playing with his cornrows.

He rolled us around, so now he was towering over me, his braids tickling my face like the last time. I wrapped my legs around his waist. He pulled his lips away from mine and slowly kissed down to the cutout of my shirt.

"I love you," he mumbled against my skin.