25. Saturday Week Nine (pt3.)

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25. Saturday Week Nine (pt3.)


I spent all of winter break holed up in my room, my Nan still thinks that it was just the trauma of being attacked but I suspect she knew that there was more going on, she just didn't want to push me when I was so fragile. And I was, fragile that is, every sound, every movement terrified me. But I knew that things could only get better from there but I was wrong.

For the first few weeks of winter break, Noah didn't leave my side. He stayed with me all day and night, making sure I felt safe. I knew it hurt him to see me like that, scared all the time, reliving every memory in nightmares that had me screaming all night. But I think the real breaking point for him was boxing day.

We were all having dinner at Noah's house as part of a boxing day tradition. I still felt uneasy but I wanted to find some aspect of normality again so I agreed to go. The meal was fine it was after the dinner that really had a lasting impact.

For the first time since I broke up with Marcus, I felt happy and content, I felt as though I could get through this. But then after dinner, I went into the kitchen to put away my plate and I dropped it. I think it was the sound of the plate shattering into a thousand pieces that caused me to breakdown because in the next moment I was cowering in the corner of the kitchen, sobbing and apologising with every breath. Through the blur of my tears, all I could identify was the outline of a man, a man I believed was going to beat me for breaking his plate.

A man I know now was Noah.

Witnessing me like that, broke something in him because from that point onwards he withdrew from me, pulled away completely.

It was the first Saturday after we had gone back to school in January that I found out why.

I went over to Noah's house, worried that he wasn't in school and I found him high in his bedroom.

Noah had started taking drugs, heroin specifically.

I knew that I was in no state to help him, I mean I could barely help myself so the next day I called Kinsey, Illiana and Tori and told them everything. They cried for hours as we hugged each other, drawing strength from one another and we all came to the agreement that Noah was our biggest priority.

The next weekend, when Noah's mum finally came home from a work trip, we told her about Noah's addiction. We didn't tell her about Marcus, my group of five were the only ones who knew. She was shocked, to say the least, and despite being a fairly absent mother, she still loved Noah deeply.

None of us saw Noah for four weeks after that. His mum sent him to rehab and he refused visitors his entire stay there.

When he recovered and returned home, the first place he came was to my house. He said he owed me an explanation as to why he abandoned me when I needed him most. I remember crying in arms, assuring him that I didn't blame him because I didn't. But still, he insisted I hear what he had to say.

He told me that the day in the kitchen had terrified him and that at that moment he realised how deeply I was affected by what had happened by Marcus. And he blamed himself for it.

Noah blamed himself for introducing us. Noah blamed himself for getting caught up in his own life. Noah blamed himself for not noticing what was happening. Noah blamed himself for not saving me. But most importantly, Noah blamed himself for something that he was not guilty of doing.

I'll admit, at the start, a part of me did blame Noah but then I realised he wasn't the one hitting me, Marcus was. He wasn't the one tearing me apart, Marcus was. He wasn't the one who emotionally, physically and mentally abused me, Marcus was. And not a single bone in my body blamed Noah for what had happened.

I told him this and then held him for hours as we both cried. Cried for lost time. Cried for a broken friendship. Cried for childhoods that we could never repair.

Marcus had broken down every part of me and because of that, I lost myself.

Marcus had broken down every part of me and because of that, I lost myself and because of that, Noah lost himself.

But in the end, we always come back to each other, we always heal each other.

— — — — —

Eli was pacing up and down his room by the time I had finished telling him the story. I remained huddled up on the bed. Legs still bent, my chin still on my knees only now I had tears streaming down my face and Eli's sweatshirt was soaked in them.

My eyes followed Eli as he paced up and down his room.

"Fuck!" He yelled before punching the wall. He leant his hands against it, panting heavily. Neither of us spoke for a minute until he said gruffly, "so much makes sense now. Why you want to fight. Why Noah is the way he is. Why you all are the way you are around that fucking prick!" He punched a hole straight through the wall when he spoke about Marcus.

Eli remained leaning against the wall, panting and trying to breathe through his anger as I unfolded myself from my position on the bed. Pulling the sleeves of his sweatshirt further down my arms for comfort, I made my way over to him. When I reached him, I wrapped my arms around him, placing my cheek against his back and my hands against his chest.

"I'm safe now, baby," I murmured, placing a soft kiss against his clothed back, "he can't hurt me anymore."

Eli's hands came off the wall as he held my own away from his chest allowing him to turn in my arms, he then proceeded to manoeuvre my hands so they were around his neck now instead.  He bent his head down until his forehead rested against mine, his eyes were closed as he muttered, "no-one will ever hurt you again, tigru," his gorgeous blue eyes then opened, staring deep into my own before he spoke with conviction, "I promise."

On my tiptoes trying to reach him, I pulled him closer, he lifted me off the ground slightly and I buried my head into his shoulder as he did the same to me. His smell of spice and leather invaded my senses as I found comfort in his arms.

In the arms of the boy who I was falling in love with.

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Next chapter is not a subsequent part so I don't know when I will upload it, hopefully soon!!

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