...and then everything went to hell
Characters: Dominic and Meg Setting: Alabama, over a year ago The trailer park was pretty much exactly what he imagined, only ever so much worse. It was a shit hole, just as Meg had told him it was. The car they drove through the run down area was probably worth more than any home on the lot, and the word 'home' was used in the loosest possible way. It was the kind of place that had dead cars decaying on blocks in yards, broken toilet bowls with some flowers stuck in the basin out front as 'decoration'. The paint jobs on any given building was faded and cracked. There wasn't a single place that had every window intact. The grass was long, and as Dominic turned a corner in the direction she pointed, he could pick out at least two trailers that were absolutely meth labs.
He'd asked her if she was from Hillbilly Hell, and she'd somewhat agreed, but the truth was so much worse. Soooo much worse. He wondered what her life here had been like. Half of him was desperate to pull over and ask, the other was sure that it would put him in a black, black mood. Probably not the best frame of mind to be in when he faced down her old man. She’d already warned him that it was probably going to be unpleasant at best. He’d wanted to skip the trip entirely, just not take her back there at all. He’d wanted her to go away with him, where they could disappear somewhere.
She insisted they go back, just to get some of her stuff. He slowed as a mangy dog leisurely strolled across the road, no collar, no real sense that it should be anywhere else. He glanced at Meg, her quiet starting to concern him. “Megan,” he started, to draw her attention. He reached out, brushing the backs of his knuckles against her bare thigh. “There’s still time for me to turn around, and we can fuck off and you never have to see this place again.”
She hadn’t been away from the trailer park that long really, a week, maybe ten days tops, but it seemed like a lifetime had passed since she was last there. The whole time down in Miami, her thoughts had barely strayed to that of home and her father but after Cassidy had found them, told her how Bob had been calling non-stop for three days, everything had come roaring back like a flash flood. The prospect of going back and facing the music had sat heavy in her gut like a stone but she’d been determined to do it anyway; not just because there was stuff she wanted from the trailer, she’d only gone away with enough stuff for a weekend, but more importantly she was scared of what Bob might do to try and find her if she didn’t, who might get hurt in the process. She didn’t have anyone she particularly cared about but she wasn’t going to do what her mother had done, disappear and let Bob take out his anger on someone else.
All that said and done, it didn’t make going back any easier and as their surroundings grew increasingly shabby, she began to feel self-conscious as well - it was one thing to tell Dom where she was from, it was another thing entirely for him to see it. She was so wrapped up in her thoughts she didn’t hear him say her name so when he touched her, she started and moved away a little before she realised what she was doing. Heart thumping in her chest, she flushed a little in embarrassment at her actions and looked down at her lap. “Sorry,” she said quietly, glad her eyes were hidden behind sunglasses. “I gotta do this though Dom, if I don’t...I just gotta.”
He was slightly taken aback at her shifting away, but didn't show it. It wasn't about him, he knew that. So, it wasn't like he was going to take it personally. He pulled over, next to a rusted out trailer that was set far back on it's lot, clearly abandoned. Parking the vehicle, he turned to her entirely, focusing on the tiny blonde that had seemed to blot out the rest of the world in such a short amount of time. Hell, he was still healing up from the fight he'd gotten into on her behalf less than a week ago.
But he'd get into another, for her. He was pretty sure he would do anything for her. Which included this, apparently, even if he was positive that they shouldn't be there. That they should turn around, right now, and not continue this journey. "You don't, though, MM." he said, voice softer than usual. "You don't have to do anything. We can leave. I'll figure out a way to get us someplace he'll never find you." He'd also support any decision she made--but that didn't mean he couldn't at least try to talk her out of something he viewed as a bad thing for her.
Normally the use of her pet name would make her smile but this time it didn't, instead her eyes stayed downcast as she worried her bottom lip with her teeth. "Maybe he wouldn't find me but I'd always be looking over my shoulder, worrying about what he might be doing, if he's hurting someone else 'cause of me," she explained, tugging off her shades and looking up at him. "I gotta draw a line under it all otherwise I'll never shake him. Not up here." She tapped the side of her head.
He still didn't like it. But he got it. Sighing, he leaned over, and brushed a kiss against her forehead. "Alright." he agreed. "We'll go, and get in, and out, as fast as possible." he decided. They could make it quick, right? And he'd be there, right with her, so if the guy tried anything, he was getting laid out. Even still hurting, he was confident in his ability to drop some bastard redneck.
Meg leant into the contact as her hands sought out his, needing to touch him and the reassurance that came with it. "Thats what I was plannin' on doing," she replied, the ghost of a nervous smile hovering over her lips. She paused before adding "I'm really glad you're here with me." Embarrassing as it was having him see where she grown up, she wasn't sure she would've had the courage to come back without him.
He grinned at her, an easy expression, even if he wasn't necessarily feeling jovial. But he could practically feel the waves of tension coming off of her, and he wanted to undercut that. This was going to suck enough without her being too upset going in. "Well, I tossed logic and caution to the side when I decided to take you out in the first place, why try to introduce it back in again now?" he posed, teasing. "Besides. It's a means to an end. I want to find someplace fun to take you. If that means stopping here first, we'll stop here first. Let's get this over with. You ready?" he asked. Maybe the fucker won't be home.
Meg's smile lost its nervousness and became more solid. "I dunno whether I've jus' been insulted or paid a massive compliment," she replied, relaxing a little. It wasn't much but it made her feel that fraction more confident and in that moment, she was happy to take what she could get. "And ready as I'm likely to get." She let out a steadying breath. "Lets do this."
Dominic put the car back in gear, and headed forward again. "You've been complimented." he told her, putting that out there as they passed that mangy dog. It looked like it was desperate for someone to put it out of it's misery. Hell, some of the people he'd driven by had that same look to them.
Driving up outside the trailer that was apparently hers, he shut the engine off, and looked around first, before getting out of the car. There was a dead truck off in the side yard, but the driveway didn't have anything in it. So, maybe he'd got his wish, and Bob wasn't home. He started towards the trailer, still looking around, that paranoid spark in the back of his mind not allowing him to be anything but on high alert. He didn't know the details about what happened with her. He didn't know the specifics. But he could venture a guess or two, and they weren't nice ones.
He was pretty sure he loved her already, but the girl was damaged. He knew that. It just didn't deter him at all. But that damage had to come from somewhere, and with the way she reacted to even hearing that Bob had been calling her friend...well. It wasn't a difficult picture to paint in his mind.
The relief Meg felt at seeing the trailer dark and the drive empty was palpable and had she been the religious type, she would have muttered prayer of thanks. Instead she stayed quiet, tugging on her boots before slipping out of the car and heading to the trailer door. Pulling away one of the bricks that made up the make-shift steps, she fished out the spare key and let them into the trailer.
The small space was always cluttered but in her short absence it had become a state; dirty dishes covered every available surface and rubbish was strewn everywhere and she was glad she hadn't turned on the light. The trailer looked bad enough with what little came in through the windows, she dreaded how terrible it would look if she had. Instead she lead Dom through to her bedroom, sliding the door closed behind them before flicking on a lamp.
The room was tiny; barely long enough to hold the bed, there was a chest of drawers crammed next to it at its foot and a tiny table at its head. There was barely enough room for the two of them to stand in what was left. It was clean though, albeit filled to bursting point, and every inch of wall space was covered in pictures cut from magazines, posters and photographs.
"Well this is it," she said quietly, indicating he could sit on the bed before reaching under it to tug out a bag.
It was hard not to stare at the place. It wasn't that he had never seen a messy house before. He was going to Penn State, he was part of a fraternity. The place wasn't exactly fitting of anyone's definition of 'clean'. Still, it was a far cry from this. Plus, this had a different feel to it. It wasn't just neglect coupled with laziness. This was squaller. This was the living space of someone who hadn't evolved along with the rest of humanity, a throwback to caveman days.
When she pulled him into a room and shut the door, he leaned against it, taking in the place that was clearly her bedroom. All it did was make him want to get her the fuck out of there all the faster. It was better in there than anywhere else in the trailer, but it was still the room of a girl who'd been suffocating her whole life. The pictures were a nice touch--but to Dominic, he saw a person who couldn't stand the view of her own life, so she was covering it up with beautiful things she'd rather see.
He didn't sit down when she motioned to the bed, instead he moved to look around at the pictures on the wall. Reaching out, he picked one, carefully loosing the tape that held it there so he didn't tear it. It was from a magazine, the paper glossy. It was the grand canyon, a pretty shot taken around sunset. "This is destination number one, baby." he told her, smiling as he showed her which picture he'd picked out.
With Dom still standing, it didn't leave much room for her to move around in but she didn't ask him to move, letting him look over her collection as she began pulling clothes from the drawers and stuffing them into her bag. She had precious little in the way of warm clothes but what she did have went in first along with the contents of her jewellery box, a large tupperware tub filled with bangles, necklaces and at least two more pairs of sunglasses.
She turned round when he spoke and grinned as she saw what he was holding - ever since she'd heard about the grand canyon she'd wanted to go there and now she was going to get the chance. Despite her nerves at being back home, she bounced a little and wrapping her arms around his neck, she pressed a quick kiss to his lips. "You're fair wonderful, I hope ya realize that Dom," she said, smiling up at him.
He smiled and put his arms around her waist, returning the kiss. "When you look at me like that, it's sinking in slowly." he teased. He pulled her in closer, just to keep her there for a moment. Then he gave her another brush of a kiss before letting go. "You got everything?" he asked, not wanting to get wrapped up in the moment and risk being there when Bob got there. "And...you leaving the old man a note?"
"Smart guy like you, I should hope so." She was reluctant to move away from him but did so begrudgingly, twisting to look over what she’d already packed. "And almost, there's just a couple more..." She pointed to the bedside table and the small stack of books there. "Can you pass me those?"
Dominic moved to go grab the books, glancing through the titles as he did so. He'd bought her a copy of Lolita before they'd left Miami. They'd read a bit of it together when they'd been healing up in the hotel, but were only about midway through. "Anything we're going to want to read?" he asked, watching her as she packed.
“The Hobbit?” she suggested. “Seems kinda apt given what we’re doing.” Meg had already read it a number of times, the book showing more than its fair amount of wear and tear, but would happily read it again, wondering how he might feel about it. The Great Gatsby sat in the pile too along with a copy of The Secret Garden she’d read so many times the pages were starting to come loose, both of which went into the bag after being wrapped in a threadbare shirt. She would have said something else but she was distracted by the sound of a familiar engine approaching and her skin paled.
"Well if we read that, we're going to have to read the rest of them too." he told her, though he didn't sound like he minded. "We could get a little more hardcore, too, start the Game of Thrones books. I haven't read them...yet..." he trailed off, frowning as she paled and he heard the engine too. Reaching out, he grasped her elbow lightly. "Hey. It's going to be okay."
Mouth suddenly dry, Meg just nodded in agreement even if she felt less than convinced. Quickly shoving the last few items into her bag, she tried to zip it closed, swearing as it got stuck part way and dragging it back to try again. “God damn useless piece of crap,” she muttered, frustration flooding her voice.
Dominic put his hand over hers, and smiled at her, even if he wasn't feeling terribly confident in that moment. He wasn't usually given to all that much insecurity in his life, but he had no idea what to expect here. Plus, they were in the middle of redneck fucking Alabama, where he was positive at least one of these poor excuses for shacks had bodies buried in the back yard. "It's fine." he told her. "C'mon. Let's go talk to him. Or I'll just talk to him. Tell him we're out of here."
The thought of him talking to her father alone was enough to snap Meg out of the panic threatening to overwhelm her and she shook her head with enough force to dislodge her sunglasses from where she’d pushed up on her head. “I’ll talk to him,” she said, sounding more confident than she felt. “You stay in here. If he sees you before I’ve had a chance to explain...” Well she didn’t want to think about how Bob would react, let alone watch it play out in front of her, powerless to stop it happening.
Dominic didn't like that idea. He didn't like the look of fear in her eyes, the sound of her voice. It was like when she'd first found out Bob had been hounding Cassidy. He wasn't happy about this entire fucking thing. And it had him frowning at her, looking hard at the door. "Megan...Why would I do that?" he asked, though he kept his voice low, just in case, as he could hear the front door opening. The walls in this place were paper thin, obviously. "He's going to see me anyhow."
“Because I’m asking you to,” she said simply, her eyes pleading with him. “ I know what he’s like so trust me on this. Please Dominic.”
He still didn't like it. He grit his teeth, making a small growl but he stepped back, jaw set. "Fine. But the second I hear something I don't like? I'm out there." he told her, wanting to be up front about his intentions. His heavy suspicions about her home life were weighing on his mind, and he wasn't going to give an inch if he thought something like that was going to happen with him in striking distance.
Meg nodded. “Got it,” she replied quietly and after giving his hand a gentle squeeze, tugged open the door and stepped through into the main part of the trailer where all the lights were now blazing. The place looked as bad as she expected it would and in the trailers tiny kitchen, Bob Mills was loudly rifiling through the fridge, most likely for a beer. “Daddy?” she ventured, taking a step towards him, trying to get a gauge on his mood.
Bob hadn't actually noticed that when he used the key on the front door that it hadn't been necessary. He was still a little lit from beers earlier, though when he heard his daughter's voice, he stood straight, and turned to face her. "Where the fuck have you been?" he snapped.
It was only because she’d been on the receiving end of her father’s temper countless that kept her from flinching when he rounded on her, eyes dropping to the floor. There was no answer she could give he would be happy with so she went with an apology, the thing most likely to appease him even if there was slim chance it would work. “I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean to be away so long.”
"That didn't answer my fucking question." he said, immediately crossing to her. "I don't give a shit if you're sorry. You're not nearly as sorry as you're gonna be. There's been jobs I had to pass up because your ass wasn't here. I been fendin for myself. Where the fuck were you, and who do you think you are, taking off in the first place?"
The threat sent her heart rate through the roof though it was out of fear that Dom was going to spring from her room any second rather than what might happen to her. “I was in Miami with Cassidy, she wanted to go down there for spring break and you were away on that job,” she explained, instinctively shrinking into herself to present a smaller target. “It was only gonna be a couple of days but...”
Bob reached out to grab Meg by the hair, always the easiest way to get ahold of her. He yanked her forward, just as his fist slammed into her face. That, before he threw her into the nearest wall, crashing her into the coffee table before she hit the cheap panneling, the surface splintering as glass beer bottles crashed to the floor with her.
Dominic had already been on his way out of Meg's room, having heard the threat and he hadn't really wanted to give the man time to act on it. Unfortunately, shit went down far faster than he'd even thought, and he was arriving in the room just as Meg was being thrown.
Regardless of how many times it had happened before, Meg still let out a small yelp of pain when Bob grabbed her hair. That was the only noise she made though, refusing to give him anything else even as she was thrown against the wall, head spinning as she hit the floor, pain radiating across her face and down her back.
He had grabbed the neck of a broken bottle and swung before he even connected all the dots. It was like when he'd seen her being assaulted in Miami. It just seemed like the world got washed with red, and he didn't have to think about his actions. He just acted. For someone who didn't lose control very often, this was twice in rapid succession, and both over this one girl, but he wasn't thinking about that either. He was thinking that this fucker's eye was going to look a hell of a lot better on the floor, and a good way to do that was to glass him in the face with the jagged ends of a stale beer bottle.
Bob didn't see it coming, because it never even occurred to him that he wasn't alone with his daughter. So when he looked up in confusion at seeing movement, he didn't expect the next second to strike his world through with pain. A completely unblocked blow struck him in the side of the face and sliced through, leaving his cheek, eyelid and part of his nose in ribbons.
Still feeling dizzy and with the air having been knocked from her lungs, Meg could only watch as Dom attacked her father with the bottle, eyes widening as blood welled up on Bob’s face and the man let out a bellow of pain.
If he had been a smart or rational man, Bob might have backed off or at the very least brought his hands up the protect himself from further blows. Instead he lurched forward with fists flailing, too angry to even attempt to think straight. “You little shit,” he roared.
Dominic was ready for it, expecting that this was going to be a fight. Hell, he hoped it would be. So when Bob came at him, Dominic stepped back, just enough that Bob was going to have to step farther than he thought. He'd be unbalanced. Dominic took advantage of it, and kicked at the side of the man's knee, shoving him bodily down with a deflection of momentum. And the second the guy was down? Dominic was on him, beating him with the bottle til that broke, then he just went to good old fashioned fists.
It wasn't that he wasn't taking hits himself. Bob was definitely trying to defend himself. He was just worse off than Dominic was, and was a little inebriated, whereas Dominic had sobriety and a whole lot of immediate, overwhelming rage stemming from a sharp and undeniable need to protect Megan.
Struggling to her feet, Meg’s gaze never left the two of them and though every time a hit landed on Dominic, she felt a stab of guilt, it was more than outweighed by the vicarious thrill she was feeling at seeing Bob on the receiving end of a long overdue beating. The sound of blows and grunts of pain filled the trailer but she wasn’t worried about anyone calling the police, her neighbours had undoubtedly overheard plenty of fights over the years and had stayed silent on the matter so it was unlikely to change now.
A ring Bob was wearing caught Dominic right below the left eye, cutting in enough to make it bleed, and his vision sparked, though he didn't actually stop. All it really seemed to do was piss him off more, and he hit harder, even as Bob managed to push himself back upright somewhat. He scrambled around and tried to dig a broken bottle into Dominic’s ribs.
Enthralled as she was by the spectacle in front of her, when she saw the cut appear on Dom’s face it was like a bucket of water being dumped on her head. Then she caught sight of what Bob was trying to do and, without thinking, grabbed a half bottle of Jack Daniels that had been sat on the coffee table before she’d been knocked into it and swung it at her father’s head. The bottle had enough weight to it that it didn’t shatter and the force of it sent Bob stumbling slightly to one side, looking at his daughter with barely focused eyes and his face distorted by rage. “You ungrateful bitch,” he said, voice slurring slightly as he took a step towards her.
Dominic finally said something. It was as he stepped in front of Meg, one eye blind from the blood washing over it every time he blinked. His voice was a rough growl, heavy breaths ragged. But he was still on his feet, and wasn't looking like he was slowing down. "Touch her and I'll feed you to that mangy fucking dog outside. We're leaving, and you're not going to say a fucking word. You're going to forget you ever had a daughter."
Bob laughed, a dark chuckle that sounded as ugly as he looked, and spat out a mouthful of blood from where Dom had landed a blow to his mouth. “Why the fuck should I do that?” he said, wiping the back of his hand across his chin which only smeared the blood around. “Girl’s mine to do with what I goddam like, no punk kid’s gonna tell me otherwise ‘cause the no good whore opened her legs for him.”
Dominic watched Bob, and considered. It was an absent sort of consideration. He really ought to feel a little more moved by the idea of killing someone, but in that moment, he didn't. If he got nailed for it, it would be considered a 'crime of passion', but he felt anything but that. He felt cold. He felt collected. He felt like if he could crush the man's face in, leaving a gaping, gore filled hole where it was meant to be, then he'd feel a whole lot better.
When he smiled, it wasn't a pleasant expression. And it really said exactly how he felt on the situation. That at this point? He was happy to take this just as far as Bob was going to push it. "I might let you live," he told him, a little too calmly, even if his voice was still rough. It was like all that anger had abruptly been channeled elsewhere. "if you turn around, walk out and drive away, right now. If not? Well. We're back to the 'fed to the dog' option, aren't we."
Meg liked to think her father’s taunts had long lost their ability to hurt her but to hear him to talk about her to Dom like that cut deep, laying her open as effectively as if he’d taken a knife to her. Even as the ultimatum was laid, she knew Bob would never walk away. She’d heard him say enough times that real men don’t walk away from fights and though he stood there bleeding, he clearly didn’t think that Dom was an actual threat.
“That’s big talk for a kid,” Bob sneered. “How about you get the hell out of my home and in return I won’t do to my daughter what you did to me? God knows I should, girl’s as rotten as her mother and twice as ugly and still manages to bring trouble to my doorstep. Get her all scarred up, she won’t be leaving here again in a hurry and if she did, aint no-ones gonna be looking except to stare.”
Well. There wasn't any letting him live now. He was aware on some level that it was probably fucked up that he felt resigned to that, but not at all repulsed by the notion. Nope. It was just a calm thought, a decision made. He didn't take his eyes off of Bob, because he wasn't nearly stupid enough to do so. You never took your eyes off of someone who wanted to harm you. It just gave them a free shot. When he spoke, it wasn't to Bob. "Baby," he said, "You might want to wait outside. Got some business to take care of with the dead man here."
It probably should have scared her, how calmly Dom was talking about killing her father, like it was no big thing but rather a chore akin to taking out the trash but all she felt was righteous and her hands balled into fists by her sides. “Don’t kill him,” she said, a steely reserve to her voice. “Do what you have to do but don’t end him.” Then she did as he asked, slipping out through the trailer door and closing it behind her.
Dominic sighed just a little. He wasn't actually positive that he'd be able to keep to that, but he supposed he'd try. It would just be difficult to dial it back after he started. Crippling someone, that might be okay. No matter what, though, he was going to make damn sure that Bob wasn't ever the same again. That he'd never lay a finger on Meg again, that she'd never have to hear the shit that spewed from his lips again. Maybe there were things worse than death. He wasn't sure, but he was kind of willing to find out. He flashed a grin at Bob. "You did get a chance to walk away." he reminded the man. That, before he went for him again, moving fast and without warning, shoving Bob as hard as he could into the nearest window, the glass shattering outwards even if Bob was left crumpling to the floor.
Some men knew when they were beat and bowed out gracefully, others carried on fighting even if their own defeat was inevitable out of some twisted kind of pride. Bob Mills was still laboring under the impression that he was going to win despite battling the alcohol in his system and blood loss as well as Dominic. Even after he crashed against the window, he was still struggling to get back up on his feet, barely making it up onto his knees before his vision began to swim uncontrollably, on the verge of passing out.
Seeing him swaying, Dominic stared down at the man. "You're never going to hurt her again." he told him, voice low. He reached out, grabbed Bob by the hair, and punched him repeatedly in the face, on the side he'd already cut the shit out of. He only let go after Bob was limp, slumping to the ground unconscious. He was thinking about where to sever the man's spinal cord, and if he could pull that off without killing him when he looked out into the yard, the dirty curtains blowing out the broken window.
Meg was just out of his line of sight having gone round to the passenger side of Bob’s truck and hopped inside the moment she left the trailer. She’d heard the smashing glass but paid it no mind as she opened the glove box to grab the reason she’d been willing to go outside in the first place - her father’s pistol. Gun firmly in hand, she clicked off the safety and with a look of grim determination on her face, got out of the truck to head back inside.
Dominic kicked Bob a few times while he was down, because he deserved it, and then leaned back against the wall heavily, exhaling as he shut his eyes for a moment. Reaching up, he swiped his wrist against the cut under his eye, smearing blood everywhere. He still wanted to make sure the guy wasn't breathing when they left. But she'd said not to kill him, so that was the only thing staying his hand on the matter. He was going to ask her why, though.
That was then she came back into the trailer and with the barest look around to check where her father was, answered Dom’s unspoken question by raising the gun with both hands and firing a shot into the unconscious man’s head. Then a second. A third followed, entering Bob’s body just below his neck before she emptied the rest of the clip into his chest and torso, hands oddly steady as the rest of her shook, tears she didn’t even feel running down her cheeks.
Even if he'd completely decided to kill the guy--wanted him dead at this point, he wasn't expecting the gun, and he flinched when she fired. He was staring at her, the man's blood and brains splashed over his shoes and pants. The dry click of the gun had him moving, walking forward as he reached out to slowly lower the weapon, trying to gently remove it from her hands. "Baby, let go." he whispered to her, one hand sliding along her hip to her lower back.
Meg had been gripping onto the gun so hard that when Dom’s words registered with her and she tried to ease her hold it, a rush of pain coursed through her fingers and a small whimper bubbled from her lips. Eyes squeezing shut, she forced herself to let go of the gun and allow Dom to take it, visibly sagging once it was out of her hands as if all her strength had been tied into the weapon. “It had to be me,” she said quietly, her words coming out in a rush. “I mean I know you could have but I needed to...I couldn’t....” She was crying openly now, fresh tears leaking from her eyes despite them being closed.
The heat from the barrel burned the heel of his hand, but he just grit his teeth and set it off to the side, on a shelf within reach. He kept her close, both arms going around her and holding her close as she spoke. Resting his cheek against the top of her head, he let his eyes fall on Bob, though he turned her back to the corpse. "Do you feel better?" he asked, voice soft. He understood what she was saying--he wished she'd let him do it, but he couldn't change what had happened.
“I don’t know yet,” she said honestly, letting herself sink into his embrace and gripping onto his shirt as much as was able to. “I feel...lighter I think.” The shaking was starting to subside and her breathing was almost back to normal even as she continued to cry.
Dominic stroked her back, rubbing soft, light little circles around and around, trying to soothe her. As the adrenaline wore off, he was feeling the pain. And there was a lot of it. His eye was starting to swell shut. He was dripping blood from...jesus, everywhere. "Lighter is good." he told her. "I'm sorry he hurt you." he murmured, giving her a light squeeze. If he'd gotten there a few seconds faster, he would have been able to intervene.
The stroking was nice and after a little while, she felt like she might be able to stand on her own again. That didn’t mean she was in a hurry to let go though, turning her head to rest her cheek more comfortably against his chest. “I’ve had worse,” she admitted, voice quiet. “So don’t you apologize, it’s his fault not yours. Besides, he hurt you too.” Granted Dom had given out far worse than he’d gotten but that didn’t stop her from feeling guilty, knowing he’d gotten hurt protecting her. Again.
"I'll live." he told her, blowing it off. Which probably wasn't the best plan, he definitely needed someone to tend his wounds, but he wasn't concerned so much with that at the moment. "And I don't care if you've had worse, or it wasn't my fault, I just wish I would have got there sooner. Next time don't leave me behind, okay?" he asked. He had it in his head now. They were in this, together. He'd been planning on running away with her anyhow, that had been the decision made, but this was a lot more solidified. Because they'd just murdered someone. It wasn't self defense anymore when the guy was unconscious and no threat. These days, the cops would be able to tell he'd been shot while he was down. They were murderers. She'd pulled the trigger, sure, but he'd been the one to lay the beat down.
They'd both be just as guilty. Oddly, he wasn't actually concerned about that.
He was concerned about being separated from her. She was the only person he'd really ever felt something for. And while he was still working out what it even was about her that he was so drawn to, he didn't need to have it pinpointed to know it was real for him. It was there, sharp, deep. "Let's go." he said, abruptly making the call that they needed to get the fuck out of there, right now.
“I won’t,” she promised, pulling back enough so that she could look up and meet his eyes, so he would know she meant it. “And you don’t ever leave me behind either.” It wasn’t a question and her tone made it clear it wasn’t something that was up for discussion. At his suggestion, she let go of him entirely and steadfastly not looking at the body of her father still oozing blood onto the lino, made her way to her bedroom on still slightly unsteady legs to grab her bag and the first aid kit she’d cobbled together months ago from beneath the bed. She hadn’t planned on taking it with them but given the state of Dom’s face, it wouldn’t go amiss and there were painkillers in there she was sure they’d both appreciate.
"I'll never leave you behind." he promised. He meant it, too. Hearing that demand from her, he smiled. He was aching, in a lot of pain, bleeding, and now a killer, but he was happy. He felt content, in a strange sort of way, one he couldn't quite describe even to himself. But it was there, the feeling settling over him as he watched her walk into her bedroom. He walked to the door of the trailer, whistling out into the yard. It wasn't long before the dog they'd seen earlier came wandering up, and he gladly let the mutt in. "Bon appetite, Rover."