The Redemption of my mates.

Unexpected saviour.

Ariana (POV)

When the party was finally over, I helped him back to the room. He was completely drunk. He drank more than he could handle.

I put him on the bed and took his shoes off. I thought he was passed out, but he wasn't. He was mumbling rubbish I barely understood.

Ignoring his gibberish , I decided to seek solace on the balcony. Stepping into the cool night air, I was greeted by the distant rumble of thunder, a prelude to an impending storm. The darkened sky crackled with flashes of lightning, illuminating the intricate dance of raindrops that seemed eager to descend.

I like thunderstorms because they show that sometimes, even nature needs to scream. Closing my eyes, I inhaled deeply, immersing myself in the sensory noise that surrounded me. The damp breeze carried the sharp scent of rain.

But, my peace was shattered when two strong hands wrapped around my waist.

I began to untangle his hands, but he was too strong. He started kissing my neck and shouted into my ear, "Stop moving! I know this isn't part of the plan, but I can't resist."

He began drawing circles on my lips with his thumb, his voice a low, rough command. "You are too hot to be ignored. So, please... allow me. Just tonight. And don't tell your dad about it. I will pay extra."

My heart was hammering too fast; I couldn't process what was happening. He aggressively carried me and threw me onto the bed. I scrambled off the bed before he could reach me, but he grabbed my dress, tearing it down the side.

He grinned, beginning to walk slowly toward me. I pleaded with my eyes, folding my hands together, crying and shaking my head violently. But he seemed not to care about anything.

My back hit the cold wall behind me, and I had nowhere left to go. But I knew I would not hand myself over to this guy. I would rather die!

God! If you hear this. Please help me!

As he inched closer, I closed my eyes, bracing for the inevitable.

CRASH!

Suddenly, a sharp noise pierced the tension. My eyes snapped open to witness the unexpected: the man was crumpling to the floor, the sound echoing in the room. A smashed vase lay beside him, wielded by an unexpected savior standing tall—Elijah.

Relief flooded through me, and my heart leaped with a desperate happiness. A choked cry of gratitude escaped my lips, and without hesitation, I rushed toward Elijah, embracing him tightly. Thank you so much, Eli. You saved my dignity tonight. The weight of vulnerability and fear lifted, replaced by a profound sense of safety.

I broke the hug and looked up at him. He quickly removed his coat and placed it around me. "Let's go!" he called out, urgency hardening his face.

But I stood still, trying to understand. What is he doing here?

He grabbed my hand and yelled, "Let's go, Aria!"

He started to move, but stopped when I didn't follow. "Do you want him to touch you?" Elijah asked, his eyes flashing.

I looked at him, confused, and immediately shook my head.

"Let's move then!" He yelled, and started running, dragging me behind him.

A few minutes and several meters away from the building, we finally stopped to catch our breath. I looked up at Elijah's face. He saw me and suddenly pulled me into a fierce hug.

How dare he? I pushed him away.

He shouted, "Are you a fool or what? How can you go with a total stranger?"

Why is he shouting at me? I didn't choose this!

"Are you stupid, Aria? Huh! Answer me?" He yelled, causing me to flinch violently.

I wanted to say a lot, but the knots in my stomach refused to loosen. I hit my head with my palm and broke into tears. I was so frustrated right now, not with Dad, but with Elijah. How dare he call me stupid? He knew very well I couldn't speak. I squatted down, covered my face with my hands, and sobbed louder.

He immediately knelt in front of me and engulfed me. "Sorry, sorry, sorry. I didn't mean to scare you." His tone was now warm and calm.

I looked into his eyes. He looked genuinely worried, like someone beloved was about to die.

"Sorry, Aria, I am sorry," he repeated, wiping my tears gently.

"Did your father ask you to come with him?" he asked.

I nodded my head.

"Do you know that guy?"

I shook my head.

He paused for a while, then asked, his voice low, "Did he do anything to you?"

I shook my head.

He exhaled loudly, pulled me into a relieved hug, and said with a shaky voice, "Thank God."

This time, I didn't push him away. I liked this feeling. I think this is what happiness or peace feels like.

He broke our hug and said, while putting a stray string of my hair behind my ear, "I'll take you home."

I smiled and nodded in appreciation. He gracefully stood up, extending a hand to assist me. Our fingers interlocked, and he began leading the way. A strange sense of relief enveloped me—unfamiliar and yet strangely comforting. Walking alongside him, my mind struggled to comprehend the whirlwind of emotions coursing through me. At that moment, an unexpected peace settled over my entire being, like a balm for a wounded soul.

I stopped abruptly, realizing my backpack was missing. He looked from our joined hands to my face. "What happened?"

My backpack is not here, and I don't want to go with him, What if Dad sees I came with a different guy?

He must have read my expression. "I don't care about your dad. And your bag... Here it is." He pointed to the direction we came from. I saw a guy named Zack walking toward us with my backpack. Zack handed the bag over to Elijah and said, "He is still unconscious. I guess he drank too much."

Elijah nodded and handed me the bag. "Go change," he ordered.

I nodded and hid behind his car. I quickly pulled on my old clothes and changed, was about to go back to him but I got a brilliant idea. If he takes me home, I’ll be in trouble, so is better to walk home from here. I peeked at him and saw he was busy speaking to Zack.

I walked backward slowly, and after a few minutes, I turned and fastened my steps into a fast walk.

He suddenly appeared in front of me, making me jump. Wasn't he behind me?

He crossed his hands over his chest and asked, "And where do you think you're going, young lady?"

I avoided his eyes and looked down.

"Do you want to walk home?" he asked.

I looked up, smiling, and nodded my head to answer him.

"Okay then, bye," he said, dramatically gesturing down the road.

Wow! That was easy. I bowed my head slightly to show him my gratitude and started walking. I heard him say, "Zack, let's go. She will most certainly reach home by tomorrow. So we have nothing to worry about."

Tomorrow? What rubbish is he saying?

I turned to look at him, and he clarified, "If it takes four hours for a car to reach there, then walking... Hmmm. Most probably will take a day or so. Maybe tomorrow night. You will be there."

Oh yeah, I don’t know where I am? What if I encounter that guy again.

I looked at him and he had a huge grin on his face, he knew very well I wouldn't be able to walk home.

He waved at me and began walking to his car,

I ran after him, and he stopped, turned around, giggled, and then asked, "Are you coming with us?"

I quickly nodded, is not like I can go home alone.

He giggled loud and said. “Okay... Okay. Let's go."

He opened the door for me. I slid into the passenger seat, and he got into the driver's seat. Zack was sitting in the back.

He started driving, and I looked out the window. He rolled the window up, saying, "You will catch a cold.”

I looked at him, blinked a few times, admiring him in the dark car, and whispered, "Thank you."

"You're welcome," he replied immediately, his eyes fixed on the road.

I placed my head on the window and drove off to sleep..

Next day

I arrived at school, and my heart immediately sank. Everyone was dressed for the weather—shorts, tank tops, casual smiles. I was a stark contrast, swallowed by an oversized long-sleeve shirt and baggy jeans. Adding to the peculiarity, a thick scarf was wrapped tight around my neck, earning puzzled looks. I probably looked like I was bracing for an arctic winter instead of a sunny Tuesday.

Undeterred, I walked into the empty classroom and headed to the back. I pulled out my notebook and started sketching. The sharp snap of my pencil breaking pulled me instantly back to the raw, disturbing memory of the night before.

Flashback, Last Night

I woke up tangled in Elijah's arms. Panic set in when I realized we were outside my house, steps away from the front door. Desperation surged. I practically threw myself out of his embrace, frantically trying to shoo him away.

But he was stubbornly insistent. "I'm meeting your dad first."

My stomach clenched. I spotted my father across the road, stumbling toward the house. Oh, God. What if he sees us?

In a hasty move, I shoved Elijah off the stairs, waving my hands emphatically for him to leave.

He sat up, dusting himself off, then caught sight of Dad behind him. "I am not going anywhere," he insisted. "I’ll first ask him why he sent you with a stranger."

Why must he care about my problem?

This was none of his business. If he didn't leave now, we would both be in danger. I rushed back down the steps, helped him up, and frantically grabbed the sticky note pad from his pocket. I scribbled: Please, Eli! Leave before Dad sees you.

"I want him to see me!" Elijah argued, his voice low but firm. "He must tell me why he sent you with that guy!"

He is my father! I can handle him.

"Well, I don't want to go!"

Elijah! Please!!! He will kill me if he sees you with me.

He glanced at the note, his jaw tight. A brief, tense silence hung between us. He closed his eyes and let out a loud sigh. When he opened them, the anger was gone, replaced by a reluctant understanding.

"You are right," he said with a hint of sadness. "But please keep me informed about what happens."

I nodded once, and he turned and ran back to his car, disappearing into the night.

Before I could catch my breath, a heavy hand rested on my shoulder. Startled and trembling, I turned back to see my intoxicated father. He glanced behind me and slurred, "Where is Mr. Andrew?"

Mr. Andrew? Who is that?

Dad glanced around again, then grabbed my wrist, yanking me into the house. He shoved me against the wall and locked the door with a loud click. He stared at me, his eyes unfocused. "What did Mr. Andrew say? Will he call you again?"

Mr. Andrew? Is that the guy who rented me for the evening? Why would he call me?

The shrill ring of the telephone echoed through the tense air, setting my nerves on edge. My dad stumbled to answer the call, his attention instantly diverted. This was my chance.

I moved with cautious steps, my heart pounding in my chest like a trapped bird. The weight of the moment pressed down on me, urging me toward the safety of my room. The dim light played tricks on the walls as I tiptoed, desperately praying the creaky floorboards wouldn't betray me.

"Ariaaaanaaaa!"

The forceful, roaring call of my name thundered through the house. I stumbled, emotions stirring within me like a sudden storm. My heart raced as I hit the ground. What did I do to provoke such a reaction?

He sat in front of me, his voice a dangerous whisper. "Do you have a boyfriend?"

Boyfriend? No, no! I shook my head excessively.

He scoffed, his gaze piercing mine with a fiery, drunken rage. Without warning, he lunged. His hands tightened instantly around my throat.

Panic set in as I struggled desperately for a breath, clawing at his hands. The air grew thin, and each gasp was a painful struggle. I pleaded with my gaze, but the overwhelming anger in his eyes left no room for compassion. Am I going to die tonight?

He threw my head to the side, and a wave of relief washed over me as I finally began to breathe again, sucking in sharp, ragged gasps. Before I could lift my gaze, he yanked my hair back, slamming my head against the floorboards. "Who was he?" he demanded.

He released my hair and tossed my head to the side again, then began pacing back and forth in front of me. The tension in the room was unbearable. After what felt like an eternity, he knelt before me, his eyes burning with fury. "Who is the guy who got you home?" he demanded, his voice low and threatening.

I sat up, desperately searching for the right words. I tried to speak, but the words caught in my bruised throat. "I... I..."

He moved closer, his eyes drilling into mine. "I am asking a question. Which needs an answer."

My mind raced. I blurted out the first thing that came to mind. "It was just a friend," I choked out, the lie hanging thick in the air.

His expression darkened. He seized my arm, his grip tightening painfully. "Don't lie to me, Aria. I can't stand lies."

I winced, trying to maintain composure. "It was just a friend, Dad. Someone I met at school."

His eyes narrowed. "A friend?" he scoffed. "You think I'm a fool, Aria? Friends don't sneak around and hide things. Tell me the truth!"

I hesitated, caught between the fear of his wrath and the desperation to shield myself from further harm.

He stood up, hitting his own head several times in apparent frustration. A guttural scream escaped his lips, filling the room with an unsettling intensity. Then, just as abruptly, he knelt in front of me again, his voice now strained and raw. "Listen here! I don't want to dirty my hands with your blood. Tell me! Who was that guy?"

I struggled to regain my composure. The room felt charged with tension. Elijah is just a friend at school, and he doesn't want to believe that.

He stood up, took a deep breath, and his tone softened, twisting into something bitterly sad. "You want to be like your mom. You want to go out and sleep around with guys," he said with a harsh laugh that abruptly shifted into deep sobs. His emotions spiraled out of control. The room echoed with the conflicting sounds of his bitter laughter and heart-wrenching sobs, painting a haunting portrait of our fractured family.

My mom slept around?

This revelation hit me like a ton of bricks, shattering the idealized image I had of her. He picked up his wine bottle, mumbled something, and stumbled off to his room, leaving me alone with a mind full of unease and unanswered questions. The weight of this newfound knowledge settled heavily on my shoulders. I didn't know what was more painful: the revelation about my mom or the fact that he had almost killed me.

I needed to do something to forget what just happened. With great difficulty, I got up, wiped my tears with the back of my hand, and noticed the wreckage around the living area. Determined to find solace, I pinned my hair up and started to clean, hoping this act of tidying would bring peace.

After cleaning, I took a long bath, the warm water soothing both my aching body and troubled mind. Changing into my pajamas felt like shedding the burdens of the day. I made my bed with extra care, attempting to create a safe haven.

A persistent headache throbbed. I reached for a painkiller, swallowing it with a sip of water.

Finally, I lay down to sleep, not out of the desire for rest but as an escape from the overwhelming reality. The exhaustion weighed heavily on my eyelids, yet the tumult of thoughts refused to subside.

I don't have time to cry. I am tired of crying. I am tired! I can't do this anymore. I want to die more than ever now. I hate everything around me right now. And i realised why Dad hates my mother. Mom used to sleep around. Who wouldn't hate a woman like that? Perhaps Dad thinks I'm not his blood. Maybe I'm not.

Flashback ends.

The bell rang, and students started rushing in. I quickly wiped my tears dry.

Someone sat next to me. I didn't bother looking up, but I knew who it was.

"Aria," he whispered.

The way he said my name hit differently. It was like he meant it. Do I even make sense right now?

"Aria. Are you okay?" asked my savior. Or should I say, the one who almost got me killed?

I faced him and saw nothing but deep worry on his face. Just by looking at it, tears sprang to my eyes. I knew that look. It was the look of sympathy, and I hated it.

I felt his hand wiping my cheek. I hadn't realized tears were flowing again.

He spoke, his voice calmer now. "I am sorry. I didn't know he would do that after seeing me."

Seeing you? What do you mean? Did he see what Dad did last night? That means he didn't leave.

I stood up and walked out of the class. I didn't even notice if the teacher was there. I felt too hurt and numb to notice my surroundings. I needed fresh air. I couldn't breathe.

I walked out of the school building and kept going. I didn't know my destination, but I needed to be somewhere safe.

After wandering around for hours, I ended up at an open grassland that had a set of swings. I walked in, sat on a swing and started swinging, trying to stop the voices in my head, but the motion wasn't helping. I stopped and got off. I looked around; the field seemed empty.

I threw myself onto the grass and let all the unwanted tears out. I cried and sobbed and wept. I let all the emotions out until there was nothing left. I felt sick—sick of life itself. After drowning in my grief, I slowly got up and walked to a tree nearby. I laid down and rested my head on the rough trunk. That was a good cry. My head felt lighter, and I’m kinda sleepy.

"How are you feeling?" asked a voice.

I quickly sat up. I saw no one near me. Who could it be?

I looked on the other side of the tree and saw a guy sitting there. I began to get up, ready to leave, but he said, "Don't go yet. Stay here. You will feel peace. This place will calm you."

He was right. And anyway, it's not like I'd ever meet him again. I sat back down and rested my head on the trunk.

"By the way. I'm Noah. Noah Cooper. And you?"

I didn't have the energy to engage. I closed my eyes, and then sensed him moving closer.

I opened my eyes and sat up. He was seated cross-legged in front of me.

"May I know your name?" he asked.

I shook my head without a second thought.

He laughed. "Why?"

I shrugged my shoulders.

"Okay, fine. I won't ask."

Thank God. I was about to lay back down, but stopped to listen to him.

"Let's play a game... It's called Uno... Here are the cards." He took them out of his pocket.

Is he for real? I nodded dismissively and looked away.

"Okay..." He put them back.

"Do you know it's like eighty degrees today?" Noah asked, amusement evident in his voice.

I nodded, acutely aware of my completely inappropriate attire.

"At least take that scarf off. You're going to overheat yourself," he suggested, pointing to the scarf wrapped tightly around my neck.

I hesitated. The scarf was more than a barrier against the heat; it hid the scars on my skin.

Before I could react, Noah took matters into his own hands, gently removing the scarf. A rush of vulnerability swept over me as the scars were laid bare.

Unsure how to react, I avoided eye contact, focusing on the ground beneath my feet. The warmth of the breeze intensified the internal conflict I felt. Noah, sensing my discomfort, spoke softly, "Are you okay?"

I managed a nod, struggling to control the storm of emotions swirling within me.

"Are you okay!?" He questioned again, more insistent this time.

I looked into his face and offered a small smile while nodding. I was sure he'd noticed why I wore the scarf in the first place.

He picked up the scarf and carefully wrapped it around my neck again. "I am sorry. I didn't mean to..." he said gently.

And with that, he returned to his original spot. A brief silence hung in the air before Noah, brimming with nervous excitement, unexpectedly appeared in front of me again.

"Do you want to know about me?" he asked, his enthusiasm contagious.

Still processing the previous minute, I was taken aback, but he slipped into sharing details about his life. Noah revealed more information than I expected, painting a vivid picture of his family dynamics. He revealed having a twin and a unique habit of seeking solace in this quiet park whenever sadness engulfed him. Noah confessed to not going to school for the week, explaining that his twin had traveled to Australia to visit their sister. He admitted feeling too shy to attend school without his brother's company.

The revelation left me in awe. He was telling the complicated details of his life to a stranger.

Laughter bubbled up from within me. I couldn't believe that Noah, with his lively and outgoing conduct, was confessing to being a shy individual.

He joined in the laughter, acknowledging the sarcasm. "If you're laughing at that, imagine my family. You know what? My family thinks I'm at school, but here I am. At this peaceful park."

Noah's revelation added another layer of complexity to the puzzle unfolding before me. It was as if we had stumbled upon a shared shelter, a refuge from the expectations and assumptions of our respective lives. This encounter with Noah, in the midst of our individual struggles, was shaping into a unique and unexpected bond.