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tired and sore body made its way across the courtyard. Sitting in the deserted area, she ate her lunch.

And she went through the day.

Her head held down, scared to make eye contact with anyone. That was an invitation to hurt her more than they already had. Exiting the school, she walked all the way to the warehouse. It was her safe haven. Taking comfort in the silence that surrounded her.

Walking over to the punching bag in the center of the room, she looked to the pillar beside it.

When the fan stops, so will my breaths.

Grazing her fingers gently over the scratched up words, she let out a breath she didn't know she was holding.

"That fan will not stop. I'll make sure of it," she whispered.

Thinking back to the boy she saw leave the building every night, she wished to know who he was. His face was hidden from her eyes, the darkness of the night consuming them both, the flickering street lights did nothing for them. But she knew he was muscular. His frame had to be at least 6'2 and she could make out the muscles against his tight fitted shirts. His eyes were the only thing she could make out from his face. Not knowing the color, but seeing some light reflecting off them, she knew she wanted to see his eyes one day.

Realizing it was 6 p.m, she quickly ran out as to not let the boy or anyone else see her.

See her broken and terrified.

She walked into the luxurious mansion before making her way up the steps to her small, dingy room. It was an old attic kind of place.

Because everyone knew Evelyn did not deserve extravagant things.

Working three part-time jobs to earn for herself even though she lived with a family worth billions really says something about her place in this world.

She walked into the room with a little relaxation in her posture completely unaware of the man waiting in her room.

Father.

Looking at him, she froze. Her expression grim, behind it was thoughts of fear.

He rose up from the chair as he yelled at her for being so late. Telling her what a waste she was. Grabbing a fist full of her hair, he dragged her out of her room before shoving her down the stairs.

Each hit was worse than the next. Each time he hurt her, her cries diminished more and more. She was learning to not whine out. Learning to be obedient. But the pain was unbearable. So without thinking, she kicked him back and ran.

Towards the front door and out of the house.

Running to the warehouse once more. Because she knew no other home than the quiet, worn out place. Her footsteps were loud and it was obvious she wasn't in the best shape. Running after being beaten wasn't the best idea. She ran into the building, crying and out of breath. Her body was shaking.

A panic attack.

Her tears blurred her vision, all she saw was a distorted figure and the figure was speaking.

A boy.

was a little frazzled and quite frankly, annoyed that someone interrupted his attempt at letting out his frustrations. He gritted his teeth, not wanting to yell at whoever had walked through the door. He almost did though because he wasn't in any mood to be disturbed.

Until he saw the person who walked in.

A girl. Her hair was a mess and so were her clothes. Her shirt was ripped in a way as if someone had tried to pull her back.

To whoever she was running from.

Her body was shaking and her legs went weak as she tried to walk further into the building. Her hiccups were soft and so were her sobs. But the tears running down her cheeks made it obvious she was crying. Cautiously approaching her, he didn't know what to say.

"Are you ok?"

But his words went unheard as her ears were ringing and the pounding in her head was enough to make her go crazy. The violent trembles were enough for him to realize she wasn't in her right mind.

She was having a panic attack.

Immediately his eyes widened and he rushed over. He knew not to crowd her as that would most likely cause more panic and fear to strike her body. He took the more cautious route and when her body collapsed on the ground, folding in on itself, he slowly sat down beside her before pushing a strand of her away from her sweat-stained face. He couldn't see most of her face, but her body continued to shake.

"It's okay," he mumbled quietly. He spoke softly attempting to comfort the girl and rubbed the part of her back where her heart would be resting.

"Breathe," he whispered, "just breathe."

As he told her what to do to slowly stop her panic attack, she slowly uncurled from herself. Her body no longer shook like before and she could finally hear properly. The tears were still there though and once she sat up, she somehow managed to mumble a 'thank you' in his direction before crying softly to herself.

He enclosed his arms around her carefully, just testing the waters before quietly whispering in her ear. Telling her to let it all out. His voice was calm, yet demanding. Soft, yet strong. But her body felt weak. Her body was weak. And so her body collapsed against his for support, for comfort.

The warmth his body provided her was a new sensation.

He sat down with her in his arms, leaning back against the wall behind them. Her head was tucked under his chin, her tiny hands scrunched the collar of his shirt, not wanting to let go. Because after so long, she found comfort in something besides silence.

And even though she didn't see his face yet, Evelyn found comfort in Maddox Lohan.

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