Heartbreak (Stripped 1.50)

I fight against his hold on my neck, flailing uselessly. It’s like some cruel parody of what Blue once wanted to do. Like bending you over and taking you from behind.

What makes you think you could stop me?

Except there was more to it than that. Only when you want it.

I didn’t know what he meant, why I’d ever want that. But I knew there was something there, something different. With Blue it would have been different. Not like this.

Survive, my mind whispers, and I know what I have to do.

“Hold still.”

The words are whispered into my ear, hot and faintly wet. I close my eyes. Tears squeeze down onto my cheeks. I’m bent over the bed, inhaling the dank scent of the bare mattress. There are stains I don’t want to contemplate.

Some of them probably came from me.

I can’t help but whimper. I clamp my mouth tight and taste blood.

“Do you like that?” comes the breathless voice from behind me. “Does your boyfriend do it like that?”

I shudder at the pain, holding myself still and closed. I only have to get through this. I only have to survive.

“Hannah?” The voice comes from outside the room—familiar and beloved. No.

He can’t come in here. He can’t see my like this. I try to call out, to tell him not to come inside, but only a croak comes out. I’m too broken to even speak, too lost.

The door opens, and I only have seconds to glimpse the surprise in his eyes. And the rage.

Then he’s flying across the room. There’s no more invasion in my body, no more hands holding me down. Only the smack of flesh on flesh, the grunt of animals locked in battle.

I know this is a fight to the death.

The crazy thing is sometimes I want to kill someone. Like when Matthew was touching you.

He won’t let Matthew walk away from this. And then they’ll lock Blue up. There won’t be any self-defense for him this time. Not when Matthew is the son of these people. He has advocates. He has people who give a shit. No one will stand up for Blue.

“Blue,” I scream, finding my voice. “Stop!”

And no one will believe me. I know that with the bone-deep certainty that comes of being a girl in a system that has never listened to a word I’ve said. It isn’t going to start now.

The sound of fists against flesh, of bones crunching, makes my stomach turn over. “Please stop,” I cry, repeating the words over and over. Blue is too far gone to hear me—or to care.

I don’t care about Matthew, but I can’t let Blue kill him.

I have to stop this, somehow.

The moonlight through the broken blinds glints off the silver lighter in my hand. Matthew’s lighter. It wouldn’t make much of a weapon, but maybe it can save us somehow.

No, that’s crazy.

Oh God, Matthew isn’t moving anymore. I don’t know if he’s dead or just unconscious—but Blue isn’t stopping. He’s still beating Matthew’s body like he’s a punching bag.

The only way out is total insanity. I flick the lighter and a bright orange blame lights the room.

I hold the fire to my thin sheet and let it burn.

* * *

Red and blue lights bounce off the clouded windows. I shiver despite the thick blanket wrapped around my shoulders. I long for the leather jacket, but it’s in the house, maybe even burned. Blue is wearing a gray T-shirt that is stained—probably with blood. He leans against one of the patrol cars while a cop takes his statement.