*McKinley's POV*

The tension in the air was suffocating as I held onto Heath's wrist, second guessing the words that had involuntarily slipped from my mouth.

Yet for some reason that I was not ready to admit, I refused to let go. I felt my fingers tighten on their own accord as time slowed down to the point I could just barely make out each individual sharp intake of breath Heath took in the darkness.

For what seemed like eternity, but in reality had only been a matter of seconds, I held my breath as Heath's wrist twisted in my grasp when he pivoted to face me.

Electric blue eyes stole any air I had left in my lungs when they locked on mine with such intensity that my hand slipped from Heath's wrist. It wasn't fear that flooded my veins, but rather anticipation mixed with something else.

"I...uh, I'm sorry," I faltered, yanking the sheets up to hide my face as I cowered in embarrassment.

Heath's voice was a few octaves deeper than usual as he huskily murmured, "I'm the one who should apologize," seconds before a weight descended on the bed, causing it to dip. I slid down the small indentation, coming to a stop against something solid.

Heath's fingertips became visible over the edge of the comforter as he pulled it down, uncovering my face to smoothly move his hands to my cheeks in a way of forcing me to look at him.

"Why are you apologizing?" I asked, hardly audible, not trusting myself to say anything more.

Heath's beautiful eyes bore down on me when he admitted, "Because I can't promise I'll hold back."

I sucked in a breath of air at his boldness and searched his eyes for the hidden meaning behind his words. In the depths of his blue eyes was an emotion I had little to no experience with and I couldn't be sure the reason behind his eyes shining softly or the way he gently caressed my cheeks in his hands.

In a battle of who would look away first, I refused to lose and bit my lip as I awaited for Heath to alter his focus elsewhere. I hadn't expected the action that biting my lip would cause his eyes to then focus on my mouth and I couldn't help the surprised gasp from escaping when Heath's eyes fluttered shut and his lips descended to mine.

I didn't have much time to prepare before his mouth was on mine and his body weight shifted from beside my body to on top of it, resting the majority of his mass on his elbows on either side of my head. Heat coursed throughout my body in every place his body was in contact with mine and I became fully aware of the thin sheet of fabric separating his fiery skin from mine.

Tangling my fingers in his long hair, I tilted my head to give him easier access and couldn't help the small moan from the back of my throat when Heath deepened the kiss before trailing a line of kisses from my jaw and down my neck.

Breathing heavily, Heath paused just above the collar of my pajama shirt, silently asking for permission to go lower to which I gave a slight nod, allowing him access. As gentle as a feather, he laid his lips against the dark blue bruise on my sternum left behind by the man who plagued my nightmares during the night and day.

A frighteningly vivid image of my father's black, soulless eyes flashed through my mind as his arm threateningly drew back with a sick glint in the pits of his eyes. I flinched at the disturbing memory as Heath kissed yet another wound made by my father.

Wincing at the pain inflicted by direct contact with the bruises, an irrational thought infiltrated my mind and I became convinced that Heath was in fact my father. My eyes flew open and a cold sweat broke out across my skin as I mustered all of my might and heaved my father's massive body off of me.

Tears sprung in my eyes, burning as I screamed, "Get away from me! I hate you!"

A loud thud echoed in the hotel room when my father was shoved off of me and landed in a heap on the floor beside the bed. Scooting as far away from the edge of the bed as I could get, I brought my legs up to my chest and buried my face in my knees as tears relentlessly poured from my eyes.

I froze when a pained groan sounded from below me and a head of blonde curls breached the top of the bed when the boy sat up, rubbing the back of his neck as he met my eyes with a look of hurt reflected in his. Shaking, I realized my mistake and pressed a fist against my lips as even more tears flowed in rivers down my soaked cheeks.

"Heath," I gasped, "I am so..." I trailed off, horrified at what I had done.

Without a word, Heath stood up and nodded as understanding filled his eyes, failing to push out the lingering hurt I had caused.

I was utterly ashamed of my reaction, but could not find the words to apologize. No matter the physical pain I had inflicted on Heath when I pushed him off the bed, I knew that my actions alone had hurt him much more.

It wasn't fair to him. Heath was absolutely nothing like my father, but that was a hard fact to convince to someone when you treated them as your own worst enemy like I had done to Heath Foster.

I could only watch as Heath gingerly picked himself off the floor and made his way over to the couch, dragging an extra blanket from the closet with him before he curled up on the narrow couch with his back faced towards me.

This was all my fault. I was just as bad as my father. This trip had been for Heath, yet I had gone and ruined it, making it all about my selfishness.

"Goodnight, McKinley," I heard him say, jarring me out of my awful thoughts.

I didn't have the guts to respond because without meaning to, I'd rebuilt the walls Heath had unlocked.

***************

"No! Please just let me go!" I pleaded, cowering in fear as my father fired his assault on me, striking my jaw with the car keys he felt the need to arm himself with. The sharp edge clipped my jaw, opening a wound as warm liquid cascaded down my neck before disappearing down the turtleneck I wore.

I cried out, covering my mouth with a hand to not permit my father to revel in joy about the pain he caused. I also didn't want my mother to hear or else she would know something was wrong. If she were to ever find out about the beatings my father gave me, he promised to do even worse things beyond my imagination.

For the sake of my mother's safety, I locked my lips and suffered through the remainder of the beating, grunting each time his fist connected with my body. Salted tears mixed with blood, but I still remained a bunching bag.

I have had this nightmare countless times before, and it always ended in wrapping a scarf around my neck to hide the deep gash on my face; the same scratch Heath had uncovered in my mother's office so long ago.

I wriggled on the bed in desperation, fighting to get away from the man who reveled in the joy he got in torturing me.

"Help...me..." I begged to anyone who could hear me.

My pleas were answered moments later when a strong and calloused hand smoothed the sweat soaked bangs from my forehead, awakening me from my frightening slumber.

"It's only a dream. You're okay, I've got you," a voice murmured in my ear as a strong, muscular pair of arms began to circle around my body.

Jerking awake, Heath's arms dropped from my shoulders and he moved over to create space between the two of us, undoubtedly recalling my earlier episode of wanting to be as far away as possible from him.

I could hardly see since it was still nighttime, but I didn't need to see to be able to know that Heath was hurting just as much as I was, if not more.

The adrenaline rush that I had experienced because of the dream began to fade as I took deep breaths to calm myself. Heath remained on the bed, staring straight ahead at the bare wall with an expression equally as blank.

Nervously shooting a glance at his broad frame, I squeezed my eyes shut only to reopen them when my father's face wickedly danced behind my eyelids.

"Go to sleep," Heath instructed, vowing, "I'll stay right here."

I did as I was told, covering myself with the covers I'd kicked off in my haste to fight off the devil in my nightmare.

I felt the walls I casted around myself slowly crumble at his promise and I queried, "Heath?"

"Hm?"

I couldn't formulate my words into coherent sentences, settling for stretching my arm out instead. My nails skimmed along Heath's hand, and his eyes widened when I entangled fingers in his.

Moonlight streamed in from the opening between the curtains, illuminating our hands. Heath ran his fingers over the ridges on my wrists caused by scars of the object that reminded me I was still alive, all the while draining the very life out of me.

Each cut the razor blade sliced across my skin made me hiss to keep from screaming, but at least it meant I was still alive. Yet, if the cut was just a little too deep, the same could not be said.

"We are battered and bruised," Heath spoke, "but these wounds will heal. We won't let him win."

Soon after that, I was fast asleep with Heath by my side, a few bricks away from completely disassembling my weakening walls.

Vincent Carter's memory was working just as hard to hamper Heath's efforts, piling bricks on top of bricks twofold.

And my father still held the key to the lock in his grasp.

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