Maybe You'll Be The One That Saves Me

Max's point of view-

When I got home, sure enough my dad was already waiting for me at the door. I didn't even get a chance to close the door nor run for the safety of my room before he was grabbing my forcefully by the arm, his grip tight, and I could already feel a bruise forming from how unbearably tight he held on to my arm.

"Where the hell have you been, you piece of shit?!" he screamed in a rage, his face livid and turning purple in anger.

"I...I was out," I replied, lamely and then he slammed my head against the wall, just like in my nightmare I had earlier which my newfound friend and savior, Ronnie, woke me from...And then I focused my thoughts on him as my dad slammed my head against the wall once more, making my vision slightly blur. I grit my teeth, I would not let this asshole win or show weakness in front of him. Then he threw me to the floor; I landed with a crash, curling in on myself and expecting the blows as usual.

"You were gone all night! You were supposed to make dinner for your mother and I and clean and do the dishes! What did I tell you?"

I didn't respond and winced, screwing my eyes shut as I felt his foot collide with my stomach, hard.

"I'm sorry...I-I forgot," I whimpered.

"Shut the hell up, you disgusting piece of crap! And lose some damn weight!" My father yelled though I was skinny already...It still wasn't good enough for my father; I'd always be a disgusting human being to him...

Think of Ronnie...Ronnie...His arms....How I longed to have him hold me again.

As my father delivered blow after blow to my stomach and bruised ribs, I thought only of Ronnie, tears escaping beneath my eyelids.

"Now go to your room! NOW!" He screamed at me as I quickly began to get to my feet, my side and entire torso protesting against the movement and somehow managed to make my way quickly up the stairs.

I collapsed on my bed, passing out from exhaustion and the pain...

When I woke up, it was to find my phone ringing. I immediately pulled it out of my pocket, wondering who it could be...No one ever called me...And then I remembered Ronnie.

I could hear his frantic, worried voice on the other end...

"Max, Max, I'm so sorry, I forgot to call...I fell asleep and-are you okay? Did your dad..."

I squeezed my eyes shut, the pain suddenly ripping through me as I slowly managed to sit up, tears forming and escaping to slide down my cheeks. Everything hurt so much; I wanted Ronnie here. I needed him here.

"It hurts..." I whimpered.

"I'm sorry," he said, his voice breaking slightly.

"It hurts," I said through tears, sniffling.

And then to my horror, my father had come into the room.

"You're still crying?! What the hell did I tell you, you disgusting human being!"

I immediately ended the call. He was advancing on me like a vicious vulture, before slapping me hard across the face and then he grabbed my arm, twisting it. I clenched my teeth, my eyes squeezing shut.

"Please dad, stop...you're hurting me," I almost begged. I never begged, well sometimes...when things got really bad, like now. He twisted my wrist harder and I whimpered, desperately.

"Who the hell were you talking to?"

"No- no one..." I lied but that earned another slap on the face as he let go of my wrist.

I bit my lip hard, drawing blood, my wrist screaming in pain...He may have broken it or something...It hurt like freaking hell.

Then he finally left the room, leaving me to sob quietly on my own, desperately wishing Ronnie was here.

At that, my phone beeped.

"Where are you?" Was Ronnie's text.

I somehow managed to give him my address with my uninjured hand, and waited anxiously for him to get here and once again rescue me from my personal hell...

Ronnie's point of view-

I heard the phone go dead and instantly began to panic, tears escaping my eyes. I had to help him. I wanted him here with me. Right now. I wanted to hold him and tell him everything is going to be okay. I wanted to whisper beautiful lies in his ear just so he could sleep easily for a while, without pain or nightmares. I wanted to stroke his hair and hold his hand tightly in my own...I just want him to be okay.

Taking a deep breath, I sent out a text asking for his address. I made up my mind; I was going to get him and face whatever devil was living in that house-his father-as long as I could get him out of there, safely.

I waited, holding my breath and a few minutes later I received a reply.

"Thank God," I muttered under my breath...before immediately grabbing my leather jacket and rushing out the door...

My dad was saying something to me and I simply waved him goodbye, not having time to explain further...

Luckily, Max didn't live too far from me as I didn't have my license even if I was 18 nor a car...

Taking a deep breath, I sent out another text just to make sure he was okay and still in there...

"I'm here. Where are you? Are you okay?"

"Upstairs, the top window..." I looked up and it wasn't too high to be honest. I turned towards the tree and began to climb it, stumbling a few times and trying not to make any noise as I finally reached the open window.

"Max..." I called out, softly, looking inside...The sight I saw broke my heart. Max was curled in his bed, sobbing softly, his chest racking with his silent cries, probably so his asshole of a father wouldn't hear him.

He didn't seem to hear me or see me and continued crying...

I approached him and gently sat on the bed...Thank God he wasn't lying bleeding on the floor or something though I could only imagine what kind of pain he was in...

"Max..." I called again, reaching out to gently take the hand resting by his head, and interlacing out fingers.

He looked up through his crying, his brilliant green eyes meeting mine.

"You came..." he sniffled.

"Of course....God, you had me so worried. I was so scared," I said.

He only nodded.

'I was so scared' what the fuck, what about him, it happened to him, not to me, it happens to him all the fucking time.

"How...how often does it happen?" I asked, praying it didn't happen every day.

"Every-every day..." he whimpered, crying harder and squeezing my hand.

I felt tears in my own eyes, rapidly beginning to fall. "Oh Max, I'm so sorry..." I said, pathetically...I didn't know what else to say.

He only held on to my hand.

"I'm getting you out of here, for good. I'll pack your things for you. You don't have to do anything, but you're coming to live with me." I said as I began picking up some of his clothes scattered around the floor and in the closet, pulling out a bag and tossing them in there.

He stopped crying at this point and simply watched.

When I was done, I finally turned to him.

"Can you..." I trailed off, Max already knowing the answer to that question.

He shook his head, shutting his eyes.

"Hey, it's ok...I'll carry you. It's not a problem," I said, softly, giving him a small smile before gently picking him up. He winced and I muttered an apology.

"'M sorry I'm such a burden..." Max said and I shook my head.

He most definitely was not a burden to me.

"Don't say that, you're not a burden, okay?"

He nodded, although reluctantly.

I sighed, somehow managing to make it out the door without being seen. His mother was nowhere to be seen..Hah how ironic. Just like mine. And his dad was passed out on the couch.

I made it out the door, letting out a huge breath and carried him down the street to my house...

When I made it home, my dad greeted me. I gave him a look that said not to ask questions just yet and he nodded, understanding.

I offered him a thanks before walking up the stairs and placing Max on my bed before placing his bag down and then laying next to him.

I wondered how much pain he was in and how hurt he was, since he couldn't even fucking walk. I'm going to kill his dad, I thought.

I began to pull up his shirt and he brought it back down but not before I saw the open cuts and the numerous, nasty and ugly bruises across his skin.

Tears formed in my eyes.

"Don't, Ronnie...Please don't cry. I'll be fine," he reassured though I doubted it.

"Let me take care of them for you, at least," I said through my tears.

He shook his head. "Not now, later. I just want to lay with you here," he said, softly and I nodded, taking his hand again...

I covered us up with the blanket with the other hand, turning to my side to face him, noticing the ugly bruise that wasn't there before, on his cheek.

"We'll be alright," I reassured, making a promise to myself that he would never go back to that hell he called home. He'd live with me...I already liked him a lot; and wanted to get to know him better. There was so much more to him that this broken boy.

"I know, because you're going to look after me." He said, a smile forming on his face His smile could break hearts...And we fell asleep, me never letting go of his hand, not even when he started to whimper in his sleep.

"I'm here, Max...You're going to be okay now...You will never hurt again..." And I really hoped that wasn't a lie.