I was just finishing a late-night practice when I saw her.

I'd been the last to leave thinking I'd swing by the studio on the way out, just to...peek my head in. It was a long shot she'd been in here considering she's been awol for the last five days and she's avoided cheer practice and seemingly us all day.

I've been lingering by the door watching her silently. Ethan said he saw her earlier at her locker but she looked really spaced out and ran away when she felt him approaching. All our numbers are blocked from her phone and when I went to talk to someone in the main office about her they looked at me like I was fucking crazy and told me she was sick... but it's more than that... it has to be.

She looks tired and distant. Her small frame looks even tinier, slightly hunched over and unsure of itself. She's working on a new dance... one I've never seen before. Filled with pain and desperation but every time she moves her face scrunches in pain, the movements ever so desperate and raw, it's frightening to see her move in such a way. Her dancing has always been so emotional but this is... unlike anything else. It's unhinged and dangerous. Her blonde hair waves around her face which she's purposely left untied to shield her face.

She doesn't look like my Blondie. All the confidence she's gradually been building up over the past few months is diminished. It's distressing to watch. Her face is drained of its usual rosiness and her eyes look bleak, she doesn't look like my colourful butterfly. There's not even a clip or a bow in her hair. She looks so empty, my chest feels even heavier watching her.

If she's just been sick... why has she been avoiding us all? Because of our... moment?

It's something more.

She walks over to the speaker breathing in short breaths, I watch quietly knowing she's about to run through her full routine and there's a lot you can learn from Atlas when she dances. She wears her emotions on her feet and so far it's been nothing short of upsetting.

She moves into the middle of the room and as the music starts she throws off her hoodie which was covering a majority of her body. She starts to dance and she's flying through the air. Flipping and crashing to the floor with such power but her face is pained and hurt. Her arms stretch out like she's trying to grab something and her body writhes on the floor, it looks beautiful but the intensity of it scares me.

Her turns are picturesque, done with such force she could start a mini hurricane and her acrobatic tricks are flawless, they're in time and tight. Her legs straight and strong. She amazes me every day with what she produces. She is the most beautiful person I've met, hands down. She owns the floor and really does fly through the air like a godamn butterfly.

Her routine comes to the end and she drops to the floor like all her energy has disappeared, curls up in a ball, hunched over her knees. Her hair is all pushed around the front of her face so her back is on full display with only the exception of a sports bra.

That's when I see them.

The discolouration of her skin, the black and blue, green and yellow that overpowers her pale complexion. Her entire back is covered in bruises, some look fresher than others but they're all as bad as each other, there's more colour on her back than there is paleness. Red marks lay at the base of her neck and when you look closer you can see cuts. Deep fucking cuts that scorn her already damaged body. Some look scarred over but others look red and swollen, barely holding together and I doubt dancing with them is easy.

My heart thumps wildly in my chest. What the fuck are those. How the fuck did she get them. My stomach heaves at the sight and I'm struggling to keep my temper under control. It's breaking through, bubbling in my fucking veins. Someone has hurt her. They've fucking hurt her.

I storm into the studio. "What the fuck are those!" I shout through gritted teeth. I don't want to shout at her, I didn't mean to. I'm not angry at her I'm angry at whatever fucker has done this to her.

She jumps and quickly runs to grab the hoodie she threw to the side earlier. I rush over and grab it before she can, holding it hostage in my hands. She looks distant, frantic. She uses her small arms to try and hide her torso but it's the exact same. Deep coloured bruises scatter her stomach and rib cage. Broken skin sits on her arms with the accompaniment of what look like lash marks and large darker bruises.

My frustration increases, her entire body is covered in them, riddled with pain and torment. That's why she was wincing every time she moved. I'm not fucking surprised, she looks like she's got a few broken ribs at least! Even her face is sporting some dark bruises and a busted lip, a slash on her eyebrow, a swollen nose and eye socket, which she has successfully hidden with her hair and the power of makeup, unnoticeable to anyone just passing.

"Atlas. What the fuck are those." I step closer to her causing her to jump back a good few steps from me. She's petrified...of everyone.

"Dance injuries." She mumbles starting to walk away from me.

"Don't fucking lie to me! I know what sports injuries are and they are not it! Is this why you've been avoiding us all week? Blocking our numbers?" My voice is rising and I'm trying so hard to keep a lid on it. I don't want to scare her anymore, she looks like a hedgehog caught in the light, curling into herself with prickles keeping everything else out.

"No! I just need to focus, friends don't get me scholarships." She grabs her bag from the floor wincing as she bends, "Please just leave me alone Blaze, just leave it alone." She sounds tired, defeated.

"No," I say calmly.

"Why not! Just leave, it doesn't matter! It shouldn't matter Blaze! Leave me alone, it's better if you leave me alone. If everyone just leaves me. " I can see her breathing getting more rapid, tears welling in her eyes. She's petrified and I ache for her. I can't stand seeing her like this. If she thinks I'd ever fucking leave her, she's insane.

"No Atlas." I take a step closer to her but she moves away again, hurt ripples through my chest.

"Why!" She nearly shouts, supprising herself, tears drip down her cheeks. A disgruntled moan coming from her throat.

"Why? Why! Because I fucking care about you Atlas!" I shout running my hands through my hair, muscles tensed. Her eyes look up to mine, "I care about you so so much." My voice softens and I reach out to grab her arm gently. She turns to me, her eyes glassy, bloodshot and more torn than I've ever seen before, cold and pained. She's on the verge of giving up, I can see the resilience in her eyes dying out. She needs to know how much I fucking care about her and if she were to leave me... I would be broken, lost.

She means that much to me.

"Look at me Atlas." I place my hands on her cheeks feeling the heat rise from them, it still doesn't draw away from the daunting bruise on her cheek and the one forming around her busted lip, " I care. You mean more than anything to me and I'm here for you. I just need you to know I care." A tear slips down her face and she scrunches her eyes so tight to stop anymore falling, afraid. I wipe the tear away with my thumb. It all falls into place, my heart feels like a lead balloon. I try and swat the deathly fog from my mind, my next question will make or break my little butterfly. "It was your dad wasn't it?" I ask softly.

Just like that she crumbles, deep sobs rising from her throat. Tears flood from her eyes and her knees buckle. I catch her before she can hit the ground and I lower us onto the floor, her body shaking against me. I hold her in my arms, her head on my chest as she cries gasping for air. Her trembling body feels so limp in my embrace, she's given up, her body too tired to fight it anymore. I've never heard a more heartwrenching noise than the cries coming from her lips.

I'll just hold her tightly for a while, that's what she needs right now, someone to hold her and tell her she's safe, someone to care and protect her. Give her warmth and build her fire back up.

"It's alright, let it out butterfly." I coo in her ear, "I'm going to keep you safe I promise." I whisper not realising a tear slip from my eyes too. It breaks me that I left her with this monster. How long has this been going on and no one has noticed. I didn't notice...

The flinches, the lies, the cancelling plans and telling everyone she's 'working', the weeks when she wouldn't come in 'sick' and the 'dance injurys'.

Her blonde hair flows across the bottom of my jaw and I kiss the top of her head. She cries for what feels like ages until she can build up enough oxygen in her lungs to voice one sentence.

"I-I-It's not... it's not his fault. It's not easy adopting-" And her hands fly up to her mouth, eyes wide brewing a fresh batch of tears.

"Adopting?" I ask softly.

"Oh gosh. I'm sorry. I'm so so sorry. I-I haven't been honest with you at all. I'm- I'm so so sorry." She sobs in between hiccups.

"Shhh, it's okay. Stop apologizing. We can talk everything through later but the important thing is you know it's not your fault Atlas. It's not your fault okay? Nothing that's happened will ever be your fault." I end up rocking her in my arms as she cries some more. It occurs to me that this has been going on a lot longer than I'd ever anticipated. A fuck tonne of emotions she's kept hidden are just spilling out of her. I can't deny I'm kind of hurt that she didn't tell me but I'm sure she'll explain why, I just wish I could have done something sooner. I'm not angry at all, not in the slightest, I can't imagine how hard this is for her- bearing the weight all on her own, I just thought we trusted each other. I'm being so selfish thinking that but I have no idea how to deal with this situation.

Her sobs get quieter until their just little sniffles, she looks entirely drained but even with bloodshot eyes and a blotchy bruised face she still looks gorgeous.

"How about we head back to mine and we talk this all through. Or not. We can wait until you feel comfortable." I also want my mom to check out some of those bruises and cuts just to be on the safe side. Especially her ribs- I'm sure they're broken.

"I-I can't I've got to get home." She tries to climb off my lap but I keep her fastened so she can't move. I'm not letting her go. Not now.

"Like hell you have. You are never going back to that house. Ever." I say sternly and for the first time she looks up into my eyes and I see a tiny spark. A hopeful spark that will ignite her fight again.

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