I barely remembered the rush up the stairs. It was only the sounds of pain and what I had developed for my tormentors that lingered. The hand was feeling numb, but the pain was there. So deep.
The cold of the floor and water still clung to my skin. My clothes were soaked and stuck to me like another layer of my skin, and my arm throbbed as if the bones were screaming. Yet, in the blur of pain, I could still feel his touch. The way he held me. The way he effortlessly dodged everything and everyone as he ran up the stairs and corridors.
He could see my tears. Could feel my pains. But he did not say a word. Did not ask anything. And I appreciated that. I hated seeing him crying, but the pain was unbearable. And he happened to be my only solace. I rested my head on his chest and let tears fl
