[𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐃𝐎𝐍]

"𝐈'𝐌 𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐄," 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐃, 𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 through the front door. I was in the kitchen, putting away dishes with Diane then.

Paris came in to greet her mother.

I turned away and saw that her eyes were red and puffy like she'd been crying, and I noticed a black-purple bruise on her wrist that she was trying to cover with her hoodie.

I wanted to scream when I saw that.

The fiend was putting his hands on her.

Diane didn't notice since Paris went up to kiss her on the cheek from behind.

"'Night, Mommy."

"'Night, baby."

Paris went upstairs.

"I'll be back," I said to Diane.

"I'll finish up, you don't have to come back."

"Okay, goodnight."

"'Night, London."

When I barged to Paris's room, she was taking off her hoodie by her closet.

I went over to her wrapped my hand around her wrist to look at the bruise closely. She didn't snatch her wrist away from me or anything like that.

"So I'm assuming the fiend did this to you. He drove you home, too, didn't he?"

"No, Shannon did actually."

I let go of try wrist. "So why?" I whispered.

I could see the tears building up in her eyes.

"Why what?"

"Why'd you befriend that motherfucker?"

"I don't even fucking know," she sobbed quietly. "I didn't want to be his friend. but you . . ."

I wrapped my arms around her. She put her head on my chest. Feeling my shirt dampen because of her tears just made me want to cry.

"You know I really like you?" she murmured.

"Yes."

"That's one of the reason why I even opened up to you in the first place, that and because I trust you. Even now, with whatever's going on between us."

"You know I've never felt what I feel for you about anyone, ever?" She didn't respond so I continued.

"And I really do want to be with you and trust you, and open up, but . . ."

"But?"

"I know that I'll be the one getting hurt, in the long run."

Paris finally looked up at me fiercely.

"How could you say that?" She was hurt, it was evident by her voice. "I would never hurt you like that."

"You already did, by befriending that fool again."

She slowly looked down, I could see in her eyes that she was feeling guilty.

"I know part of the reason was because of me and I'm sorry for that. You took me leaving the other night as in me saying 'I don't want you.'"

She shook her head yes slowly.

"I am so, so, so sorry I made you feel that way. That certainly wasn't my intention. When I left, I left because I was angry, I still am."

"Why though?"

"Because someone took advantage of you, I didn't like that."

"Well, why did you say that you'll be getting hurt in the long run?"

"Because I will."

"No, you won't."

"Maybe you won't, but I'm— I'm . . ." I looked to the floor since I couldn't no longer look Paris in the eyes.

"What is it?" She touched my face lightly.

"I'm afraid."

"Afraid of what?" She inquired softly.

"That I will get hurt, somehow. I thought maybe that if I kept my distance from you then my feelings for you wouldn't become stronger, but it's too late for that now."

"So then let's be together."

"I just told you I'm afraid."

"You don't have to be afraid, because I won't hurt you again."

She put her hands on my face so I could look at her.

"I promise. Please, just trust me."

There was a lot I felt the need to say, however, I gave the response I wanted to say.

"Okay."