The Bar

32. The Recovery

Everyone in the bar told the police that the men who came into the bar were attempting to take Clara by force, that the men had made terrible comments and that Flint was only looking out for the girl. Of course Flint had overreacted, causing the possibility of Assault and Battery charges.

"No lifting until those stitches come out, which is in two weeks...and no more bar fights," the doctor says tossing his gloves into the bin and leaving with the nurse. Once the sliding glass door shuts, Flint looks over at Clara. She sits in a chair, her eyes red, her hair is a mess and her fingernails have been chewed on.

"Come here," Flint says with a sigh.

Clara looks up at him. His hair is a mess, darkness around his eyes shows Clara that he is exhausted. Flint has his shirt off, his left arm is stained in blood. Clara stands up and walks to him with dissapointment written on her face. She cant look at him, anger and sadness fight within her.

He should have told her, he knew that, she knew that. He should have warned her that her father knew where she worked. He should have told her what was happening so that she would stay in the office. She felt guilty for bringing this upon him, she felt terrified that maybe, possibly, Flint couldnt keep her safe.

"Baby, look at me, please," Flint says raching for her hand. He takes her smooth hand in his rough hand and pulls on her to come closer.

"Clara, I'm so sorry, I-I-I should have told you, I should have warned you-" he begins to apologize.

"Yes, you should have! You should have told me everything! He will never leave now! He will always come back for me...I shouldnt have left," she says ending her sentence with tears.

"No! No, baby, no, you were right to leave. You dont deserve what happened to you."

He pulls her closer, her legs between his, even sitting he is taller than her, his overwhelming and intimidating frame makes her feel like a child again. He wraps his arms around her, pushing her head on his chest. He caresses her hair, his fingers calming her messy hair.

"Yes...I...do," she sobs into his chest.

He moves his hands to the back of her thighs, pulling her onto his lap nearly straddling him. Her head doesnt move from his chest.

"Dont say that, please, dont say that," he whispers. He kisses her forehead and holds onto her tightly, craddling her in his arms. He shushes her calmingly.

"I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry," she sobs.

It pains him to hear her cry, it feels like someone had stabbed him over and over again. His head throbs, wanting to stop her pain.

"Dont be sorry, none of this is your fault."

Her arms wrapped around his waist. He could feel her tears run down his chest. He feels her breathing against him. Her sobs cause him to worry, the rythym of her heart beats make him uneasy.

"Baby, calm down, your heart," he whispers in her ear.

She moves away from him, parts of her hair stick to her wet face.

"Why?" She mumbles.

He chuckles slightly confused.

"Why? What do you mean why?"

His hands cup her face, his thumbs whip away the tears. He pulls the damp strands of her hair and tuck them behind her ears.

"You have given me a place to live, a job...you have taken care of me in more ways than one," she explains. He smirks at her last sentence knowing exactly what she means.