K A D E N

I had a dreamless sleep. It was a change from my scarring nightmares. Less tiring. I thought maybe the pain blocked everything out. Maybe I was just too exhausted.

There were only a few more minutes till midnight. I could see the hands from the clock moving slowly, the tick tocking sound and my own breathing filling in the silence.

Dragging my eyes away from the clock, I saw the girl slumped on the other couch. She had one arm tucked under her cheek, chest rising up and down as she was fast asleep. Her clothes had smudges of dark blood on them. My blood.

It wasn't fair on her. To have all my troubles dumped on her front door. So I decided to make the trouble leave but as I tried to stand up, I groaned in pain. The stitches were still tender as well as every other part of my body. It was a struggle pulling in a breath, as if my bruised ribs had caved in.

My attempt of leaving quietly was quickly foiled when I saw Phoenix rise. She rubbed her eyes of sleep with the other one reaching out to steady me.

"I'm fine." I protested as she pushed me back on the couch.

"Don't argue." She looked at me for a second longer before disappearing and coming back a moment later. "Show me your hands."

So I did. My knuckles had split open and there was discolouration at the base of my fingers. She cleaned the small cuts which stung.

"Sorry." She said quietly when I hissed at the alcohol on my skin.

The air was thick with tension as she worked quickly. I knew I had to say something but I didn't know what. Fortunately, she broke the ice first.

"Can you walk?"

I nodded.

Even then, she still wound her arm around my waist and helped me up the stairs to the bathroom. I leaned on her for the most part, my cut leg meaning that I walked with a limp.

When we reached the door, she left for a second to grab a small pile of clothes. I looked down at mine to see that they were either torn or covered in blood.

"These should fit."

"Thanks." I took the pile and locked the door behind me. It was weird being in someone else's bathroom. For one, they had a mirror over the basin so I could see everything that had happened tonight written on my face.

It didn't wash away with water. Neither did the stitched wound disappear when I covered it with a strangers shirt. The abuse was all there, hidden.

Still, I tried to push it to the back of my mind when I opened the door. Phoenix was waiting outside, arms folded and biting her lip anxiously.

"Do you want anything to eat?" She took the bloodied clothes from my hands.

I was about to say no when my stomach stumbled. She laughed for the first time that night. "I'll see what I can cook up."

Her words made me remember the night that I'd told her to leave. After I regretted my words, I found the groceries that she'd brought. It had made guilt pour into my stomach. She was still looking after me even after everything.

I may not have told her about the night with Dante but at the very least, she deserved to know about this.

"I got into a fight." I blurted out before I could change my mind. "He pulled a knife on me."

She paused on top of the staircase, nodded and then started to go down. I sighed in relief and leaned against the wall in support. After a while, my leg began to throb so I limped towards the first door and sat down on the bed.

I assumed it was Phoenix's bedroom from the numerous papers scattered on the floor. There was an open biology textbook next to a launchpad. The wires ran all the way to a low desk where a guitar was perched against it. Her laptop was open but the screen was black.

The room was simple yet chaotic. It was a nice kind of mess. A lived in mess. The whole house itself felt the same. It felt like a home.

I let my eyes wonder some more around the room until Phoenix came in, balancing a pizza box with two pots of noodles. She placed it in the center of the bed and handed me one.

"It's not a gourmet meal--"

"But it's enough." I finished. "Thanks."

We sat in silence eating. I waited until I finished my noodles and had a slice of pizza before saying, "You know I've never been in your room. Or your house."

"First time for everything." She raised a brow. "I've never had someone get stabbed and come to my house in the middle of the night."

"In my defense, I didn't choose to come here."

She put her noodles down, serious all of a sudden. "What would you have done if Zach wasn't there?"

I shrugged. "Probably bled to death."

"Don't say that."

"We all have to go at some point."

"I didn't ask for the philosophical answer." She punched me lightly on the arm. But there must have been a bruise there because it made me wince. "Crap, sorry."

"It's fine."

"It's not. Do you want some ice or anything?"

"Why are you still doing this?"

"Do what?" She frowned.

"Put up with me and all my crap." I was genuinely confused. Even though she'd walked away from me tonight, even though I thought she had enough-- she was still here.

"Is it really that hard to figure out?"

I shrugged.

"I care about you, stupid." She said in exasperation. "Besides, everyone deserves a second chance."

"I thought I wasn't getting one."

"I'm willing on one condition-- you stop pushing me away." She stuck out her palm and after a short while, I took it.

"Deal."

"I want to know what happened that night."

I froze.

"If anything, I gave you an alibi. The least you could do is tell me what for."

She was right. She had covered my ass around the detective. But it wasn't fair to drag her into my mess.

At my hesitation, she asked, "Did you kill someone?"

"No." I made sure to appear calm despite my pulse rising.

"Where is your car really?"

"I don't know." I answered truthfully, I didn't know where Taylor had driven off with it. "It was stolen."

She regarded me with suspicion but she dropped the questions for the time being. She finished her pizza slice and brushed the crumbs off the comforter. "So what's your fight count now? 23?"

"It hasn't been that many." I defended. "In my lifetime though. . ."

She settled to glaring at me instead rather than punching me. "Always attracting trouble."

"Does this mean you're trouble?"

"That's implying I'm attracted to you." She replied.

I raised a brow in amusement. "I didn't force you to come onto my mattress with me."

"Shut up." She blushed. I chuckled.

If this was her giving me a second chance then I was pushing all the limits.

-

In the days that followed after the stabbing, I slowly began to get back on my feet. Even though waking up to Phoenix on a proper bed was nicer than my mattress, I reluctantly came back to my place. I went back to school in attempts to fall back into a normal routine and it worked for a while.

In that time, my mom visited me multiple times. She questioned me about my limp which I told her was a sports related injury. She asked where my car was so I told her it was at the garage-- engine problems. It pained me to constantly keep lying. The only time I didn't was when I was with Phoenix.

Other times, I lied through my teeth. Like in study hall. Elsa sat with her chair tilted back, head hanging over it as she stared at the ceiling. She sighed dramatically.

When I stayed quiet she sighed again.

"What?" I briefly looked up from my textbook to stare at her.

She straightened her head about to say something but paused, eyes narrowing. "Are you wearing make up?"

"No."

"It's okay if you are. No offense but you do have pretty bad under circles. They look much better like this." She ignored my glares. "You got into a fight, didn't you?"

"No."

"Who was it this time? Hampton?"

I snorted. Even he wouldn't go so far.

"Always getting into trouble." She tsked. "I guess Phee just likes to go for the tortured, attractive guys."

I smiled, remembering my conversation with her. Then my gaze shifted from Elsa to something behind her. Sam came through the door and scanned the vicinity until his eyes landed on us. He came and sat on the empty chair beside Elsa, head ducked down.

"Are you supposed to be here?" Elsa asked.

"I'm trying to dodge my brother." At my mention of the detective, my shoulders tensed.

"Everything alright between you two?"

"Fine. He's just a bit. . . overbearing." He sighed. "And I know it's not his fault but he keeps hovering over me, it's suffocating."

Elsa and I stayed in silence to show we understood. He nodded and changed the subject. "What have you two been up to?"

I leaned back and as if right on cue, I felt a sharp ripple of pain go through my torso. The wound was healing but it was a slow process.

"Ugh, don't get me started," Elsa said, staring disgustedly at her open textbook. "None of this is going in my head."

"Sucks to be you."

"Thanks for the words of encouragement. Bear in mind, this will be you in a years time."

"Shh, let me enjoy my youth while I still have it." He grinned and turned to me. "You alright?"

"Headache." I said, reaching inside my bag for a painkiller.

"I bet. With this one next to you." He referred to Elsa.

She narrowed her eyes slightly but then became neutral. "Yeah, I'm starting to get a headache myself."

Sam squinted at me in the bright sunlight. "Are you wearing make up?"

I sighed. "Yes."

"Huh, it's a big improvement."

"Thanks." I said dryly but my attention was elsewhere.

Noah was by the vending machine. His hands were full of books so when a couple of jocks knocked past him, they fell to the floor. Before I knew it, I was getting up. Elsa and Sam stopped their conversation to watch me.

I went up to the foremost jock and shoved the front of his red jersey. It was just enough to make him take a few steps back, sneers abruptly cut off.

"You dropped something."

He swallowed and went to pick up the books, his friends doing the same. They stacked the books in Noah's hands before walking away. As I watched them, I also saw Elsa and Sam clapping and cheering.

"You alright?" I turned back to Noah.

"You didn't have to do that." The bruise on his cheek had long ago disappeared. I wondered if the feelings with them had too.

"Then don't let them walk all over you."

"I could use some tips."

I smiled at that. "So, we're good?"

"Yeah." He sighed but with a smile. "We're good."

Noah returned to the table with me. I watched as he attempted to teach Elsa something without her complaining that her brain was frying. Sam merely looked on, laughing.

It was only then that I realised my fists were clenched. I uncurled them to find that my palms were bleeding from where my nails had punctured the skin. The smile dropped from my lips and I remembered something that Taylor said -- About how long I was going to keep up this facade.

The answer? As long as it takes.