under pressure | m. murdock
a/n: guess who's back!! i really struggled with my motivation bc of my complicated feelings with born again, as well as a bunch of other things, but here's a fic! it's a long one, and there's no smut but if you like fucked up and twisted dynamics and readers, definitely give it a read. i actually want to give a big old shoutout to this post by @lostfallenangelsblog ! it really resonated with me and i wanted to write a little (a lot) something inspired by it! i hope you like it ! also, head the warnings. things get weird and strange. warnings: DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT, general warnings for blood, gore, experimentation, drug use and overdose mentions, animalistic/inhuman (?) reader, reader has weird, blood centered superpowers that aren't super detailed (mostly bc i didn't want to commit to an idea), fem!reader in pronouns and description but no real description of what she looks like other than that matt can carry her, complicated relationship with food and emotions, cravings for raw and human meat, kissin', cuddling, nightmares, lots of anger and crying, karen and foggy being the best, karen and reader being friends, karen page and her gun, brief implication of suicidal thoughts from reader, matt being a complicated character with internal conflict (born again, take notes), brief implication of potential SA (not to the reader),cursing, near death experiences, warning for blood and freakiness again, reader has a lot of animalistic traits and trouble talking. okay, i think thats it but! if you find there's anything i need to add let me know! word count: 11.2k summary: while investigating a dangerous new street drug, matt finds you, instead, and it turns out what the devil needs is a bloodthirsty girl. pairing: matt murdock x fem!enhanced!reader now playing: under pressure - david bowie & queen "cause love's such an old-fashioned word/and love dares you to care for/ the people on the edge of the night/and love dares you to change your way of caring about ourselves." please let me know what you think!
This entire complex reeks of antiseptic and copper. Itâs everywhere, Matt can smell it and worse, he can taste it.Â
Addiction and overdoses are not specific to Hellâs Kitchen, or even New York City. Matt knows that, he owns a small law firm in an urban area, and heâs well versed in the crime underbelly of said urban area.Â
But recently, heâs noticed a spike in unconventional overdoses; He goes out at night and comes across one too many bodies on the ground, usually with blood running down their face from their nose, eyes and mouth. Sometimes they donât die from the drug, they die from choking on their own blood.Â
Whatever this new mystery drug is, itâs horrible; Intravenous, he guesses, and from what he can find on his own, the effects include a buzzy, rushing high for a few hours, like Adderall, maybe, and then an intense crash, usually leading to a long, deep sleep.Â
Matt spends two nights trying to find an origin, a source, anything that would help him figure out how and why these people are overdosing at such a high rate, other than this being a new street drug that is taking a lot of lives, one which has not breached the public eye just yet. So, when he gets to work on Monday, he uses his resourcesâ
He divulges everything he knows to Karen and Foggy and asks them for help. It takes another day or so, but eventually, he has a lead, a friend of a friend of an old client who had been in and out of rehabs.Â
Which lead him to this complex, the most complicated apartment layout he could imagine, a few miles away from his cozy Hellâs Kitchen apartment. This place is making the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, he feels like a cat.
He just hates everything about this place. He can tell there are bright lights on too, he can hear the LED buzzing above him. Itâs definitely lab-like, he found a room earlier down this long hallway with large vatsâone of the drug heâs looking for, and one of blood. Whose blood, he doesnât know.Â
Thatâs where the copper is coming fromâabove the large vat of blood is a thin tube thatâs currently depositing blood into it. The tube goes up into the ceiling, and thatâs what Mattâs been following for the past few minutes. Heâs not sure what heâs expecting to find, but whatever it is, heâs sure he wonât like it.Â
He gets to the end of the hallway and stops in front of the door, taking a second to listenâthere are sounds heâs not familiar with, heâs sure that thereâs too much liquid sloshing around. And thereâs something elseâa heartbeat. A very faint one. The door is locked when he tries, but he busts the lock open easily and steps inside.Â
And there you are.Â
Youâre not awake, or maybe you are, just barely. Heâs not sure. But your breathing is shallow, and your heartbeat indicates to him that youâre quite drugged up yourself. Youâre on a standing table, strapped in but tilted back enough where you donât have to keep yourself standing on two feet; not that you could, even if you wanted to.Â
Thereâs an IV coming from your arm. Maybe fluids to keep you alive, but heâs sure there must be some kind of drugs in there to keep you loopy. Around your face, he notes another tubeâa nose cannula provides oxygen to you, and Matt has to assume you desperately need it; especially when he notices the needles sticking out of your skin.Â
Theyâre large things with a glass tube on top of them, connecting to smaller, plastic tubes that all converge into the tube Matt had been following to get here. There are seven of themâthree on each arm, and one right into your abdomen. From what he can tell, youâre wearing a sports bra and sweatpants, no socks, no shoes.Â
You barely move, barely breathe, and your skin is drained of any flushness, your hands lightly shaking. He peels off his gloves before taking hold of one with both of his hands and feeling the cold, clamminess of them.Â
Someone is working awfully hard to keep you alive.Â
In an instant, heâs working to try and get the needles off you. You barely stir as he eases the needles out of you, careful not to hurt you. Heâs sure he wonât have much time once he gets the needles out, so he works quickly. When the needles are out, he takes the IV out next, and then takes off the nose cannula, before working at your shackles.Â
When those are off, you almost fall off the tableâbut he catches you, your body limp in his arms. He holds you close, cradling you like youâre precious. Youâre just some kid, he reasons, and you need to be saved from whoever is harvesting the life from you, literally.Â
You squirm a bit in his arms, and he winces.Â
âItâs alright, youâre going to be okay.â He says gently, and you must believe him, since you curl into him.Â
He thinks about taking you to the hospital, but heâs sure that whoever had you here will look there first. So, he does the only thing he can think to and begins to carry you back to his apartment. Youâre still asleep, but he keeps his focus on your heartbeat, making sure that as he makes his way through the shadows, you donât die.Â
You make it back and since itâs been about an hour by the time he makes it there, and youâre still alive, Matt is semi confident that you wonât die just yet. But he lays you on his bed very gently, and before he can even think about taking his own suit off, heâs reaching to bandage your arms. The needles were big, so heâs sure theyâll scar. You have three bandages wrapped around different parts of each of your arms, and then he tenderly places a bandage on your side.Â
He checks for other injuries, but heâs sure youâre just weak from the drugs and the blood draining. Or at least, he really fucking hopes so. He gets you a small washcloth, wetting it and squeezing to make sure itâs not dripping, before going back to you.
He listens for your heartbeat again and finds it still thumping.Â
âBrave girl,â he whispers softly as he brushes some hair from your face, before placing the cold cloth on your forehead. Heâs sure you canât hear him, but he speaks anyways, âWhat happened to you?â He wonders quietly.Â
Thatâs about all he can do for you until you wake up. So, reluctantly, he pulls himself from your side, and begins to strip, needing desperately to wash the smell of that place off of himâhe wishes youâd be free of the scent too. After scrubbing every inch of his skin with a body wash that only barely smells like vanilla, Matt dresses in a pair of sweats, similar to yours, and an old ratty henley tee shirt. He brushes his teeth, washes his face, and slips his crucifix on, wondering what saints were looking after you while you were being.. tortured? Experimented on?Â
Saint Jude, he thinks, Patron saint of desperate and lost causes, or Saint Dismas, patron saint of prisoners. Or maybe, he thinks more bitterly, Saint Januarius, patron saint of blood banks.
He stands in between his bedroom and the kitchen, scratching the back of his neck.
Then, he moves to go make you a sandwich. Youâll be hungry when you wake up, wonât you? Who knows when the last time you ate wasâthen, heâs reaching for a glass, too. Youâll be thirsty. He canât fix whateverâs happened to you, but he can absolutely make sure you arenât wanting for food or water when you wake up.Â
He places the plate, complete with some chips he found, on his nightstand near the bed, along with the water.  Then, he realizes you might be cold or want to change when you wake up. He goes to find old clothes that might fit you.Â
Itâs a real âif you give a mouse a cookieâ situation with him.Â
Eventually, when heâs sure heâs accounted for everything that you could possibly need or want when you wake up, he grabs the pillow your head is not resting on and stands next to the bed, trying to convince himself to go sleep on the couch.Â
He canât help it. He leans down, kisses your head, and then, turns to make his way out of the room. He stops at the doorway, turning his head back in your direction, just to make sure your heart is still beating, before making his way to the couch, making sure to leave the door cracked open.Â
He doesnât sleep particularly well, what with the mysterious prisoner in his bed, but he does manage to get some sleep. In the morning, when he goes to check on you, youâre still dead asleep. But your heartbeat is stronger than it was, and thatâs encouraging, at least.
He replaces the cloth on your head with a fresh one, using it to wipe sweat off your face and neck, as well. He goes back and forth with it for about an hour, trying to decide if he should go to work or not. What if youâre not here when he gets back?Â
But, he reasons with himselfâeven if you do wake up before he gets home, which, he doubts you will, heâs sure you wonât be strong enough to get very far. Besides, maybe youâd appreciate being saved, being left in a warm bed with a plate of food and a change of clothes not too far from you. The office isnât too far, either, he can keep an ear out for you.
Besides, he knows that if Karen and Foggy donât hear from him, theyâll only worry. So, reluctantly, he gets ready for work.Â
And the day drags, of course. Fridays always do. He almost stays three separate times and then goes when he remembers he doesnât have any other substantial food in the apartment. Youâll definitely be hungry when you wake up, he remembers, so you need more than a ham and cheese sandwich. He does tell Foggy and Karen about you, who immediately start looking through missing persons files. He doesnât see the pointâhe really doesnât know what you look like, only that youâre weak and scarred. Besides, maybe when you wake up, heâll learn exactly who you are.Â
It takes him a couple of minutes at the Chinese place to decide what youâd like. He doesnât know you, he reminds himself, but heâs tired, and heâs finding it hard to be focused on anything except the girl in his bed, like heâs known you for years.Â
He settles on sweet and sour chicken and some fried rice. Carbs, sodium, and sugars will be good for you, heâs sure. He gets himself beef and broccoli, always preferring this place for how they clean they kept it, how their food never tasted like chemicals or soap. Besides, it was good food. The meal comes with two egg rolls.Â
He trudges his way up the apartment stairs, noting the way the day both dragged on and passed with a snap of his fingers, but heâs about to have a much bigger problem on his hands. At the door, he listens for your heartbeat and finds it much faster than when he left. Are you scared? Well, you did wake up in an unfamiliar place.Â
He comes inside, before placing the takeout on the coffee table near the door. He takes off his jacket, places his cane to the side, and rolls up the sleeves of his button up before following the sound of your heartbeat into his bedroom. The sandwich is half eaten, the chips demolished and the water gone.Â
He listens for a minute, before locating you in his closetâWait, his closet? Youâre sitting in his armoire, curled up on top of the trunk he keeps his suit in. Why are you in there, he wonders?Â
He makes his way towards the closet, and then stops, hesitating. Just opening the door might spook you, so he knocks. When he doesnât hear any reaction, he slowly opens the door. When the light hits your eyes, you squint, taking in the site of this new captor youâve found yourself next to. He wears dark glasses, and youâre trying to recall what that might mean. Youâre sure you wouldâve known once upon a time.Â
Matt crouches down in front of you, so youâre more eye level. You havenât changed clothes, he notes. Before Matt can say anything, you pull your knees closer to your chest and start to growl, like a frightened animal. He frowns, then sits on his butt and takes a scootch back so you donât feel so threatened. He crosses his legs.Â
âHi.â He says softly, âI didnât mean to scare you, Iâm sorry.â He starts. You donât respond. âBut Iâm not going to hurt you.â He promises.Â
You donât believe him. But you do stop growling. He exhales softly, not sure why heâs so relieved.Â
âI found you in a lab, there was.. well, I guess I donât need to tell you what state I found you in. But youâll be safe here.â He says, and then, when you still donât respond, âIâm Matt.â He says next.Â
A long beat of silence.Â
And Matt finds himself talking again.Â
âItâs okay if you donât remember your name, but Iâd like to know it if you do.â He offers, âMaybe I could help you, find someone who cares about you, whoâs worried for you.â
You know two things: Your name, and that you are completely alone. No one is coming to save you. They never were. But this Matthew (How do you know Matt is short for Matthew, you wonder, how do you know anything?) is sitting in front of you and, while you know what men are capable of, you donât detect any signs of aggression. You donât trust him, but you know heâs brought you away from that terrible place.Â
So, you whisper your name. Matthew echoes it, and itâs weird to hear your name fall from the lips of another person after so long. Then, Matthew does something you find strange. He smiles.Â
Itâs an awfully pretty smile, and you attempt to bare your teeth back at him, but it doesnât feel like smiling, it just feels like showing off your canines and molars. He stands, then, and youâre almost dizzy with how much larger than you, curled up in this dark corner, he is.  He offers you his hand.Â
âCâmon, it canât be very comfortable in there. Besides, I got dinner. Or you could shower, change, whatever you want to do.â And despite your instinct, despite every inch of you screaming to run far far away from his kindness, you take his hand.Â
Without another word, Matthew leads you out of the closet, and to the main room where he has the food.Â
âYou can, uh.. sit down. Do you want something to drink?â he asks, as you stand by the couch, quiet and staring at the door. You could leave. You could run. Why arenât you running? Isnât this what youâve wanted for years, to run? He tilts his head at you. âKid? You okay?â he wonders, and you look at him. He holds up two cans of soda. âCoke or Dr. Pepper?â He asks, not wanting to push on whatever that moment was.Â
You reach forward and take the coke can, the idea of sugar making your mouth watery. Food is a luxury for you, and the scent of the food coming from the takeout bag Matt is reaching for is intoxicating. He pulls the containers out much too slowly for your liking, and then, youâre sitting on his couch in front of his coffee table as he reveals the spread of greasy, delicious New York City American Chinese food that youâll be able to devour.Â
âThe chicken is for you, help yourself to the rice.â He puts the container of sicky sweet red sauce in front of you too, and then heâs sitting down to eat his beef with broccoli, his fork picking up a scoopful as youâ
As you start pulling pieces of chicken out of the container with your hands, shoveling it into your mouth like you havenât eaten in days. Itâs so good, you cannot help yourself. You could cry, itâs so goodâyou wonât, you hate crying in front of anyone, but you couldâand then youâre reaching for the sauce container, ripping off the lid to start drinking it, and thatâs when Matt decides he needs to step in.Â
âOkay, heyââ he leans forward to grab your hands, and you flinch, looking at him with wide, horrified eyes. He stops and sighs, noticing your tension. âItâs alright. Itâs okay, Iâm not upset. But if you eat like that, youâll make yourself sick.â He promises and then hands you a fresh fork. âHere, use this.âÂ
You stare at the fork. You remember forks, youâre sure. You can identify the name of it, but you canât remember quite how to use it. Your hand wraps around the stem, and you begin to stab at your chicken like itâs a knife. Matt doesnât mind. He doesnât say anything, just keeps eating. He gets the sense you donât want to talk about whatever it is youâve been through, and he wonât push.Â
You eat in silence, and then, you manage the words out, after a long, disgusting slurp of cold soda.Â
âThank you.â You say quietly, and Matt smiles at you again. You look down at your food.Â
He helps you when your stabbing method doesnât work on the rice, showing you how to hold the fork properly. In the back of his mind, Matt keeps wondering what happened to you, and more than that, heâs wondering how long you had been isolated.Â
But, he decides, when you finally are full, and you lean back, stretching your limbs, your bandages still around the wounds of those horrible needles, that for now all he needs to do is let you heal. Let you rest. Everything else can come after he makes sure you know he wonât let anything else hurt you.Â
You find the shower when youâre done eating and after showing you how to use it and offering a fresh set of clothes, Matt leaves you alone as he cleans up dinner, but the sound of your sobs coming from the bathroom makes him pause. But youâve been through so much, he reasons, youâre more than allowed to cry.
When you come out of the shower, clean and no longer smelling like blood and antiseptic, Matt rewraps your wounds with fresh bandages, and asks,Â
âDo you need anything else? Are you tired, would you like to go to bed?â He asks, and you are tired, you wonât deny that... but, your eyes drift to the two egg rolls that sit on the table still. Matt smiles a little. âJust so you know, I canât see. Not with my eyes anyways.â Your head tilts at this. âBut I can tell youâre eyeing those egg rolls.â He reaches over and picks up the container, offering them to you. âGo on, take one.â And you do.Â
You take a large, crunchy bite, and remember that you like egg rolls. Theyâre delicious, youâre quickly recalling.
Matt must sense this, although youâre not sure if thatâs part of his âseeing but not with his eyesâ thing, so he tells you that you can have his, too.Â
-
You like Matthewâs friends. In the small bit of your brain where you can access memories from before the lab, memories you can only reach on the brink of falling asleep or right when you wake up, youâre sure youâd be good friends with them if you were normal.Â
Youâre not sure if they like you.Â
Matt had asked Karen and Foggy to come over to meet you yesterday, when he was sure you were settled in enough to not freak out on him.Â
âDude.â Is all Foggy has said for the past half hour. You look normal, besides for the big tee shirts youâve stolen from Matt. Youâre wearing pants that are a size too big for you, and socks that are thick and soft. They feel like cuffs after years of being barefoot, but youâre managing.Â
âDude.â You chirp back, smiling up at them from your place on the couch. Karen sits on the other end of the couch, looking at you.
âThis is insane, you must see that!â Foggy demands and you shake your head, tapping the space between your eyes.Â
âCanât see.â You offer. Matt sighs, hands on his hips. Itâs your favorite thing to say, anytime anyone makes an indication that Matt might be able to see, figuratively or not, whether itâs Matt himself or someone else.Â
His one hand leaves his hip and rests on your head for a second.Â
âYes, Kid, we know, I canât see.â Then, heâs turning back to Foggy to continue their conversation.Â
âShe hasnât told you anything except her name? She doesnât remember anything about who took her, orââ You bring your knees to your chest, curling into yourself. Karen cuts herself off, tilting her head when she notices your change in body language. âYou donât want to talk about it, do you?â She wonders, and you shake your head. She watches as you get this far away look in your eyes.Â
She shares a look with Foggy, and Matt steps away from you, closer to them. In a low voice, he begins to talk,Â
âListen, whatever happened to her, I know itâs bad. I know it kind of..â he sighs. âBroke her brain, I guess. I donât even know how long she was in there for, and you guys know that even a few weeks of torture and isolation can destroy someone, let alone..â his head tilts back to where you sit, as you begin to rock a bit, before your hands move to play with the blanket that drapes over the couch, picking at stray bits of fiber. You hum a tune none of them recognize, and Matt has noticed you do this when youâre stressed. You make sounds, instead of words.Â
Humming, purring, growling, cooing.Â
Foggy sighs.Â
âIâll call my sister, see if she has any old clothes sheâs not using. Theyâre about the same size. Then, Iâll see if I can get my hands on some missing persons reports that match her description.â He offers, unable to deny his bleeding heart.Â
âIâll talk to Ellis,â Karen offers, âSee if he has any leads on the manufacturers who had her.âÂ
âThank you,â Matt smiles, and your eyes drift up to watch the three of them, talking at the other end of the couch. You feel the familiar bitter swirl of jealousy in your stomach. Would anyone ever love you as much as Matt loves his friends, and his friends love him? Had anyone, before you knew nothing, except pain and blood?Â
You feel the familiar urge to run, to get as far away as possible, but you canât move. You also want to cry, but you force yourself not to, as you stare at the glass of water Matt had poured for Karen when she came in, forcing yourself to stare at it instead of one of them.Â
Their chatter becomes dull noise in a roar of dissociation, static filling your brain as you relish in all the terrible things floating around in your brain.Â
Youâve always been alone, youâre sure. You donât know exactly how long youâd been in the lab, but youâre sure it was a long time, long enough that itâs strange that no one ever came for you. Maybe you went willingly. Maybe you went by your own accord, and that would mean that this is all your fault. That you did this to yourself, that you deserve the scars from those needles, since no one forced you to be experimented on, you did this all to yourself.Â
You sink deeper into the darkness. Into the blood that sloshes around your brain, blurring your memories.Â
Why do you even let Matt help you? You donât deserve it. Youâre only putting him in more danger, more than youâre worth. Youâre not worth anything, youâre a blood bank, remember? Matt, maybe he made a mistake, when he saved you. Heâs good, he helps people, heâs so kind, and youâre horrible. Youâre angry, and bitter, and sad, and selfish. Maybe you shouldâve just died in that lab.Â
The water starts to bubble like itâs being boiled on the table.Â
Youâre just not worth all of this effort, not when youâve done so many horrible things, not when your blood has been used for things you canât even begin to describe, not when you did this to yourself. Maybe thereâs still time to fix it, you reasonâmaybe you should just end it. Maybe you should just killâ
The glass of water shatters, glass and water spilling everywhere. All three heads turn to it as Karen gasps, obviously surprised. Your eyes are wide with surprise too. Youâre trembling now, and you can smell blood, but youâre not sure why. Youâre dizzy. Your chest heaves up and down, and Matt notices your frenzied state.Â
He frowns, and grabs a rag from his kitchen, going over to the coffee table. His head tilts towards yours with a gentle smile as he begins to clean it up,Â
âItâs okay. No harm done, it was an old glass, anyways.â He assures, scooping glass into the wet rag. He goes to dump it out in the trash, and as he passes Karen and Foggy, he mumbles, âOh, yeah. Thereâs that too.âÂ
You put your head between your knees and try to breathe. You only flinch when you feel a warm hand on your head, gently petting your hair.
-
One night, Matt wakes up to the sound of you crying. Your gentle sobs wrack your body from the other room, as you try and control your breathing. And although every bone in Mattâs body is aching for sleep, he pulls himself up off the couch, rubs his eyes and makes his way to his bedroom.Â
Heâs been sleeping on the couch since you got here, and he canât deny that he misses his bed. But heâs happy to give you your privacy, sure that you arenât used to that luxury. Besides, he feels bad that he falls asleep to the thought of you every night. Not because heâs worried for you, but because he longs to be close to you.Â
Heâs definitely going to hell. This alone is enough to damn him.Â
He wears dark sweatpants and an old Columbia tee shirt, and the sound of your crying is making his heart ache. He canât help himself as his feet begin to move towards the bedroom door. He stops there, listening for a long moment. Youâre crying, but your movements are subtle. Youâre twitching, and Mattâs face softens when he realizes youâre having a nightmare.Â
He opens the door as quietly as he can, and makes his way over to his bed, where youâre sobbing in your sleep, flinching like youâre hurting, your leg moving like youâre trying to run. He goes over to the bed and sits near your head, his hand gently resting on your arm.Â
âHey,â he begins, âHey, kid, câmon, wake up.â He tries, gently shaking you, and when you keep crying he sighs, âCâmon, brave girl, wake up for me, I promise, youâre okay. I wouldnât let anything hurt you.â He leans down to press a kiss to your forehead, and you choose that exact moment to wake up, and move your head right upâyour forehead hitting Mattâs nose with a light crunch!, as you panic, gasping for air as you move away from him.Â
Matt whimpers and scrunches his face, his hand coming up to hold his nose. But you didnât hit hard enough to break his nose or draw blood, so heâs not super worried about it. However, you know heâs hurting, and you feel horrible, because all Matt has done is save you, feed you, try to make you feel safe, and you hurt him.Â
God, what a waste of space you are.Â
You keep crying, and you hate yourself for it. For all of it, but especially this. You swore of crying in front of anyone a long time ago, so long you canât remember when you did, back when you still had some sort of resolve, when you didnât want to show whoever was hurting you how vulnerable you really were.
Matt reaches for you instinctively.Â
âHey, itâs alright,â he says it softly, like heâs talking to a skittish animal, which, youâre not too far off from, âYouâre safe, Iâve got you, baby,â he says, and neither of you are in the state to address that slip. âCan I hold you?â He requests, and you only sob, wishing to go home.Â
Where even is home? Did you ever have one? Do you have parents out there, somewhere? Folks who raised you, who made you soup when you were sick, who knew when your birthday was, and never missed it?Â
Matt takes your crying as a yes, scooting over a bit and wrapping his arms around you, pulling you close. He cradles you close, your head tucked under his chin. Your nose rubs against his Adamâs apple, against the bottom of his scruff, as his hand gently pets your hair. You clutch his other arm with both of your hands, afraid heâll disappear. You donât stop crying.Â
âIt was just a nightmare. Youâre safe here, Iâve got you.â He whispers it over and over again, like a prayer, just barely rocking you. âJust a nightmare.âÂ
A nightmare you can barely remember now, but it felt so real.Â
Your tears slow, simply because you have nothing left to give. Youâre still trembling. Matt hates it when you shake. Just tell me how to fix it, he wants to say, but that would be a load of shitâhe canât fix what youâve been through. He canât even fix how youâre feeling right now.Â
But even if youâre not crying, youâre still hyperventilating, so he starts to rub slow circles into your back with his hand.Â
âKid, you have to breathe. Just breathe with me, okay? In,â He inhales, listening for you to follow suite, and then exhales, âOut.â The two of you sit like this for a long moment as you match his breathing, no longer breathing in a way that deprives your brain or your lungs of the necessary oxygen. Matt thinks of the nose cannula you had on when he first met you. âDo you want me to go get you a glass of water? Or I can goââ But you start shaking again at the idea of him leaving.Â
Your hands cling to him, gripping his arm tighter.Â
âStay.â You request, and Matt nods, pulling you closer.Â
He presses a kiss to your head.Â
âOkay, Iâll stay. Iâm not going anywhere, I promise.â He says softly.Â
And true to his word, Matt holds you until the sun rises, and youâre completely sure youâre not in any danger. Although, in the back of your mind, you are worried for the way you melt into him, the way you trust him, the way you wish you could stay in his arms forever.Â
-
You havenât eaten in days and Mattâs beginning to get worried. He knows you, or at least, he likes to pretend that he does. Arenât you hungry?Â
You havenât had much of an appetite lately, anyways, but you usually can stomach some soup or something light.Â
But for the past three days, you havenât had an appetite at all; Matt knows itâs hard, heâs had a hard time taking care of himself before, but he canât help but wonder what he could do to help you eat something. You were so fucking hungry when you first met, where did that go? Where is his girl that would shovel handfuls of takeout into her mouth?Â
As a compromise with himself, he decides to tuck you into bed and tells you heâll be back in a few hours, that Daredevil must make an appearance for the night. Itâs been a few days since heâs really let himself get into it.Â
He spends hours throwing punches, swinging kicks and getting punched right back. He crawls into the apartment at around three in the morning, sweaty and smelling as he tries to make his way through a rattled brain and into the shower. But he hears you in the kitchen, rummaging through the fridge. So, he heads towards you.Â
âHey, kid,â He says as he limps towards the kitchen, pulling off his helmet. His hair is drenched in sweat, sticking to his forehead despite the short length, âWhatâre you doing up?â he asks, and you stop, not realizing he was there.Â
You slowly turn towards him, a mouth full of raw ground beef as your hands dig into the package you have taken the raw meat from. You donât say much, you tend not to, and Matt really doesnât mind. Except, maybe, for the fact that youâre the lovely girl heâs been developing feelings for, and he wishes he could hear more of your voice.Â
You let out something resembling a coo, and then clear your throat,
âHungry.â You tell him, scooping a big handful of ground beef into your mouth letting out a hum as you enjoy the texture. Matt frowns softly and goes over to you. He has no idea whatâs wrong with you, why the first thing youâve eaten in days is raw meat.Â
âI know, I mean,â He pulls off thick gloves and sighs, âI bet you are. This is the first time Iâve seen you eat in days.â He reminds, approaching you. You donât flinch, you just reach for another bite, and Matt lets you have it.Â
Then, you shake your head.Â
âCanât see.â Your pointer finger comes up to run along the bridge of Mattâs nose, right between his eyes. He tenses a bit, a small smile on his face as you rub small grains of raw beef on his forehead.Â
âYeah, youâre right. I meant I know you havenât eaten in days. Iâve been worried about you.â He confesses. You tilt your head.Â
âNot worried.â You assure, with a small shake of your head. Matt smiles a bit.Â
âYeah, I know youâre not worried. Youâre never worried about you. Thatâs why I am.â He reminds, and when he senses you going for another bite of the raw beef, he gently wraps his fingers around your wrist. âYou canât keep eating raw meat. Youâll get sick.â You let out a whine and try to pull your wrist back, and Matt lets you but he also pulls the raw beef from your hands, and then you whine louder. âI know, Iâm sure it tastes good, but youâll get sick, and youâll feel awful, honey.âÂ
You pause.Â
âHoney?âÂ
Matt sighs, feeling bad about the slip up. He shouldnât be using pet names for you, he has no idea how much you do or do not understand about the world around you. Itâs why he feels so bad that he likes you so much. He tosses and turns, goes back and forth, is it even okay, morally, to fall for someone if you donât know that they understand what love is? Does it make him even more of a sinner than he thought?Â
âItâs just a nickname. For friends, I guess.â Matt sighs.Â
âWe are friends?â You ask, and Matt nods.Â
âWe are. We take care of each other, right?â He wonders, and if you had the words, youâd tell him that he takes care of you far more than you take care of him. You look from your hands, covered in specs of meat, then to Matt, sweaty, tired and a little bit beaten up. You frown softly when you notice a cut on his head.Â
âMatthew Hurt,â You chirp, and you go to touch his forehead, but again, his hand wraps around your wrist, oh, so gently,Â
âIâll live. Itâs okay. Can you wash your hands, please?â He really does not need your ground beef hands on him. Again. And you oblige, washing your hands as he sticks the raw meat in the fridge again, and when you turn back to him, you reach past him to try and get into the fridge, but heâs blocking your reach.Â
âHungry.â You echo, and Matt sighs.Â
âI know,â He promises, âIâll get you whatever you want.. but raw meat isnât good for you. I could cook it for you, if you want.â And to that, you make a face, with a disgusted âickâ, sticking your tongue out. âOkay, I wonât cook it for you. How about..â Matt turns, goes back into the fridge and finds edible cookie dough. He hands you the tub, and you take it begrudgingly.Â
âFine.â You grumble, and you open the tub of cookie dough, taking a scoop. The sweetness makes you hum, licking the dough off your fingers. âThank you, honey.â You hum, and Matt smiles.Â
âYouâre welcome. How about you eat, while I shower?â He wonders. You know this is the routine, even if youâre usually asleep for it.Â
âThen we cuddle?â You wonder, and Matt smiles. Sure, he shouldnât be falling for you, but how could he deny such a request?Â
âIf thatâs what you want, then sure.â He promises, âBut no more eating raw meat, okay?â He confirms and you take a second. Then, you nod.Â
âOkay.âÂ
-
Matt doesnât really care about bookstores, especially the big ones, mostly because theyâre usually too loud for a store with a limited number of books he can actually read. But youâve made your way through the two or three books that had been left at his place from old flings at least twice.Â
So, of course, he stands a foot away as your fingers graze against the spines of various books. Youâre examining all of the titles, trying to find something familiar. You know, from the few books youâve been able to get your hands on since meeting Matt, that you really like readingâ
Youâre sure you did. You miss feeling normal, even though you cannot remember what that was really like. Matt keeps assuring you that itâll get easier, that you wonât feel this way forever. You donât respond when he says this, but you want to tell him that maybe this is it; this is as normal as youâll ever be.Â
You find yourself in the young adult sectionâwhy, you do not know. Then, you pluck a book from the stands, finding a.. familiar title. The Hunger Games. You blink, startled. You know this book.Â
You love this book.Â
Although, you cannot for the life of you remember why, or what the story is about.
You clutch the book in your hands and immediately open it, starting to read the first page, and although you donât remember the contents of the story now, you are hooked on every single word.Â
In the middle of the aisle, you sit down, your eyes still following the sentences, only getting to the end of the page when you hear Matthewâs voiceâ
âHoney, you canât just sit in the middle of the aisle and start reading. Weâre here to shop, remember?â
âCanât. Your favorite word.â Youâre getting better at full sentences, and Matt is hoping that through reading, youâll only get better.
âIâm sorry,â He sits down next to you in the aisle, and you find yourself not minding his closeness. âWas that sass?â he wonders, and you glare at him, although thereâs no anger in it. Not yet. You know heâs teasing. You hate it when he teases, your face always gets too red. But you hate the silence more.
âI want to read.â You grumble, looking down at the page. You squirm when you feel Mattâs hand on the back of your neck.Â
âI know,â he promises, and heâs honestly on the verge of pissing you off. You really like him, heâs the only person you feel safe with, and yet, you can feel yourself grow frustrated. Heâs cooing at you, like youâre stupid, but youâre not stupid, you just donât have the words to express yourself, not like everyone else does. âBut we should find you more books, that way we canââ
âNo.â You say firmly, turning the page of your book. You want to know more, you want to understand why you feel so drawn to this book, why it was so important to you once upon a long fucking time ago, and Matt doesnât understand. Does he understand what itâs like to lose everything, to feel so disconnected from who you once were?Â
âKid, I know, you want to read, butââ
Oh, my god, you hate this. Why isnât he listening to you? Heâs supposed to be on your side, and you can feel your heart beating faster with frustration, your head rushingâyou can hear the blood rushing through your skull, and you hate it more than you hate this frustration--
âNo!â You snap, and when you do, a nearby light overhead goes out with a dramatic snap!, causing numerous gasps to erupt form nearby patrons, and you close your eyes, trying to get control of your breathing. You canât think about Matt right now, canât think about how horrible you feel. Why are you like this? Once youâre sure you wonât do it again, you open your eyes to look at Matt. âI did notâŚâ you shake your head, and his face is tilted up towards the light, face twisted in confusion, as if heâs trying to figure the light out.Â
âI know,â he repeats, and you exhale, trying to not get more upset. âIâm not madâ"
âSay something else.â You demand, and his shoulders deflate. He nods, before continuing,Â
âMaybe you could read some of your book to me.â He offers, and your lips tilt up a bit, the tension melting from your shoulders.Â
âOkay.â You say softly, and then Matt gently rubs your arm up, and down.Â
âWould you like to pick out a few more books? Maybe we could stop by the CD section, too.â He offers, and you smile more. You glance down to your book, and you know you canât keep being so stubborn, that you need to agree to going with him, because heâs assuming you canât understand as much as he does.Â
âNo money.â You sigh.Â
Matt shakes his head and waves his hand, like it doesnât even matter.Â
âMy treat.â He says, and then he stands up, and offers you his hand. âCâmon. Iâm getting hungry, anyways.â You know heâs not, but he always says that when your stomach rumbles, and youâre wondering if heâll always have the upper hand on reading you, on knowing your cues.Â
Then, you think itâs nice to be known so well, and you canât find it in yourself to be angry about it.Â
-
You find that you really love the sun. You love the way the warmth feels on your skin and you love the brightness of itâclosing your eyes and tilting your head right up to see all these different dull oranges behind your eyelids.Â
Maybe Summer was your favorite season, before. Maybe you had days like these, before.Â
Karen hates that youâre always so cooped up in Mattâs apartment. Heâs your only friend, and when heâs at work, Karen wonders what you do to keep yourself entertained all day. Matt says you have books and music, but how fulfilling can that really be?Â
So, Karen asked you if you wanted to go to the farmerâs market they were having by the docks. When the sun shines and itâs warm, the people of New York tend to come out of hibernation, so Matt was a little worried about you being suddenly around so many people.Â
But he didnât save you from that lab just for you to stay cooped up in his apartment all day when heâs not around. He told you that you should go.Â
You wore one of Mattâs button ups and a pair of shorts he had gotten for you, your shirt only half tucked in, sleeves rolled up to your elbows. Your arm hooks around Karenâs, mostly because itâs what youâre so used to doing with Matt. She smells different than him, though, more like lavender and clean laundry than his coffee-cologne, hint of vanilla scent. You donât mind, itâs a good different. Ten minutes into your exploration of the farmers market, you bought a small bouquet of roses, before picking the petals and popping them in your mouth. You tried Karenâs strawberry matcha from one of the booths, and you thought it was fine. You sipped a lemonade as she perused some pretty crochet creations that a young woman with many piercings was sellingâyou were amazed by her piercings.
Overall, you were having a nice day.Â
Youâve been happily humming for a few minutes now, letting yourself be guided by Karen, only occasionally pulling her towards something that catches your eye.Â
Your eyes scan the crowd, back and forth, just looking. Maybe youâre watching for danger, although, you arenât sure what danger there would be in this place like this, where younger kids wander far from their parents who donât want to stop their wine tasting to look at blind boxes.Â
Your eyes land on a manâheâs staring at Karen. Heâs staring at her like he wants something, and it makes your nose twitch. You donât like it. Your humming ceases as you stare the man down, your gaze hardening as Karen finishes buying some tea she knows Foggy wanted to try. She turns back to you when she hears you start to growl, the type of low, back of the throat growl a pitbull might do when they sense danger.Â
Youâre not sure why, but as you glare at him, your ears start to ring, and you hear the rushing of bloodâbut not your blood. His.
Youâre weird. She knows that. She doesnât really mind it, all things considered. But, sheâs trying to learn your cues.Â
âWhatâs wrong?â She asks, then follows your gaze to the man whoâs staring at her. She scoffs and then rolls her eyes. âWeirdo. Donât worry about him, okay?â You canât stop worrying about him even if you wanted to, but youâre pulled back to reality when Karen hooks her arm with yours again, before smiling. âDonât worry,â She taps her bag with her hand, and you listen to the faintest click of metal, âMineâs bigger than his.âÂ
You donât fully know what the joke is here, but she says it with the same cadence as Matt does when heâs joking, so you know sheâs not worried or upset. So, you laugh, and it makes Karen laughâand the two of you walk away from the staring man to go get lunch at one from one of the vendors on the other side of the farmerâs market.Â
When you find something yummy, you and Karen sit next to each other on a bench, people watching as you eat and sip, like nothing about either of you is anything except completely normal.Â
And then, your mouth starts to water when you notice a pig being set up to be roasted, still raw, and the illusion of normalcy is broken. Â
-
You have good days and bad days.Â
Today is a bad day.Â
You wake up restless. You wake up unable to find words, unable to talk. Youâre looking over your shoulder all through breakfast. Youâre watching Matt get ready for work. Youâre tapping your foot anxiously, as if youâre trying to outrun your fears, all while sitting in the same place.Â
You know thereâs uncooked steaks in the fridge, and you have this desire to sink your teeth into them, lick the drops blood out of the container. Everything is wrong. You can hear Mattâs blood swirling through his veins. Youâre dizzy.Â
âDoinâ okay over there?â He asks, a small smile on his face. He really tries to keep a sense of normalcy when you have these bad days, but itâs not easy. Heâs worried about you, heâs so fucking worried, and you wonât talk to him.Â
You let out a whine, and the smile drops from his face.
âIâm sorry, honey,â he starts gently. âIs it the food? Can I get you something else?âÂ
Of course itâs the food, but Itâs also everything else.Â
You whine again, burying your face in your hands. Mattâs frown deepens, and he steps closer to you.Â
âI canât help you if you donât talk to me,â He reminds, and you want to kill him. Youâve never had that thought about Matt before, it scares you, but youâre mad. Youâre mad that he doesnât understand that you canât, that the words arenât even available for you to use. You want to cry, but something in you insists that you donât, that you cannot show vulnerability, even to this man that you loâreally enjoy the company of.Â
Matt sighs at your silence, as his shoulders fall.Â
âOkay.â He nods, âOkay. Then, I have to go to work.â He moves away from you and goes to the door to get his jacket. Youâre up in an instant, following him. The only thing worse than him being so close is him not being here at all. Your breathing becomes uneven as you struggle with the thought of being without him. You need him, you think, you cannot live without him, you wonâtâyouâre not safe here without him, youâre not safe anywhere without him.Â
Matt is also dealing with an internal conflict. He wants to hold you, cradle you close. But you need to work through your emotions, you need to be able to not shut down every time you have a bad day, you need to heal. And if he babies you, if he keeps running to your aid whenever you whine, you never will.Â
And then youâll spend the rest of your days in this apartment, where heâll fall deeper and deeper in love with you.Â
Besides, Matt never claimed to be a perfect man.Â
You grab at his arm, pulling him away from the door. It doesnât do much, instead leaving Matt more annoyed than before.Â
âNo, Câmon, you know I have to go.â But this isnât good enough for you. You tug harder, willing yourself to communicate without words that you need him, that youâre sorry, that youâll never ever do anything bad ever again. Matt sighs, before putting his free hand on his hip like a disappointed mother. âTell me. Use your words and tell me you want me to stay, and I will.â
You try. You open your mouth to tell him, but the words die in your throat. In your captivity, you had forgotten how to speak. Now, the effects of what you have gone through render you speechless once more.Â
Matt tries not to let his frustration show on his face.Â
He moves his hand from yours and brings it up to your face, cupping your cheek.Â
âIâm sorry. I gotta go. But Iâll bring home food, weâll have a nice meal, and Iâll hold you for as long as you want. I promise, Honey, itâll all be okayââ
But youâre not listening to a word he says. Your eyes are glued onto his arm, static and the sound of rushing blood filling your ears again. Your mouth starts to water, and whatever primal instinct that has aided your survival up until this point wins when he retracts his hand.Â
In a flash, Your teeth sink into the skin of his forearm. Not the light, teasing nibble of a lover, but the crazed, blood thirsty gnaw of an animal, one that has been tortured for too long. You draw blood, tear skin, and then, Matt pulls his arm away with a cry.Â
For a moment, you donât even feel bad. You relish in the taste of him, in the way his blood overwhelms your tastebuds, at the way his skin tastes. You donât tear off a lot of flesh, but itâs enough, and heâs bleeding. Itâs not pretty.Â
Then, Matt loses it.Â
âAre you.. fucking kidding me?!â He doesnât mean to raise his voice, but you just tore a chunk out of his arm, after weeks and months of gentle care. âDid you just bite me?! I cannot believe you,â he huffs, and he doesnât process your shaking or the way you flinch away from him. Heâs just so angry.Â
You back away from him, before turning and walking towards the bedroom. That makes him even angrier.Â
âHey! Donât walk away from me!â He snaps, âYou bit me like a damn animal, you do not get to walk away from meââ He follows you, but you canât hear him. You canât breathe, everything about this is nauseating. You walk into the bedroom, and Matt sighs. He takes a deep breath, not realizing how uneven his breathing had become. âHoney, Iâm sorry, IââÂ
You slam the door behind you, and Matt blinks, flabbergasted. He holds his bleeding arm with one hand but quickly drops it.Â
âFine! You want to be like that? Like a fucking stray dog that I picked up? Fine!â His hand forms a fist and he slams it against hisâyour bedroom door. It rattles the entire wall, and he can hear you wailing on the other side, but heâs so angryâhe does have the devil in him, after all, as much as you have a deep-rooted bloodthirstiness in you.Â
You cover your ears with your hands, as the lights in Mattâs room flicker, a glass mirror he had bought for you, when he realized he didnât have one in the apartment, when he realized you probably had no idea what your reflection even looked like, cracks, and then shatters.Â
Matt, too angry at himself, and honestly, at you, simply grabs a dishtowel from his kitchen, pressing it into the fresh wound in his arm. God, heâs filled with a rage he hasnât been in months. You calm him, as strange as you are, but this is other worldly. It seems, just as much as you can calm him, you fuel the fire of rage that settles in the pit of his stomach.Â
He slips on his jacket and leaves, slamming the door behind him. He forgets his cane.Â
Of course, heâs angry the entire walk to the office and when he gets there. He stews, and then rants, angrily, to Karen and Foggy about it as Foggy fishes his through the first aid kit that he keeps, specifically for when Matt gets his shit rocked during the day instead of late at night.Â
And then, of course, he feels horrible.Â
He knows heâs allowed to feel frustrated, that heâs allowed to be upset, that even anger has itâs place. But, youâre not just a girlfriend heâs had a rough fight with. Youâre the poor girl he saved from a lab, where your blood was being extracted out of you. And youâre some kind of freak of nature (Although, Matt would put it much more delicately than that), desperate for any sense of normalcy.Â
And he failed you. Yes, you absolutely did bite him, and heâd have a whole conversation about that with you, but when you were vulnerable, when you really needed him, he let his emotions get the best of him and yelled at you.Â
He feels awful about it all day. He barely gets any work done, but he assumes you need space. By the end of the day, his wound has clotted, and heâs called in to the Chinese place you both like to get you dinner. You were crying so much, you must be hungry. He thinks about the bitemark on his arm.Â
Heâs home by ten to five, but youâre not there to greet him. He places the takeout on the table near his doorway, takes off his jacket, and then his glasses. He sighs, and then he listens for where you are.Â
Youâre in the closet, on top of the trunk, just like the first day he really met you. He makes his way to the bedroom, and then, to the closet. He notes the broken mirror, and the pillow stained with tears.Â
He knocks gently on the armoire door.Â
âHoney?â he asks gently. You give no response. Mattâs heart aches in his chest. âIâm gonna open the door now.â He sighs, and then he does. You cower into the corner, like the frightened animal you are. And he canât deny the way he missed you today. Youâre whimpering, and dry heaving like you want to cry more, but you canât. And of course, youâre trembling. Matt hates it when you shake.
He sits down in front of the closet like he did that first day.Â
âMy arm is fine. And Iâm not mad at you.â Then, he pauses. âWell.. I am, but.. we can talk about that later. I shouldnât have reacted like that. I shouldâve stayed home.â He sighs. You still donât respond, so he offers, âCan you please come out here, so I can hold you and apologize?â He wonders, and you, being just as devoted to him as he is to you, and having had hours to make yourself sick with guilt, completely dissipating your frustration, crawl right out of the armoire and into his lap.. like a cat. He sighs, wraps his arms around you, and just like he does when you have a nightmare, rests his chin on the top of your head as it curls into his neck.
âThere she is, thereâs my girl.â He mumbles, and the tiniest part of you, youâll admit, wants to bite him again. Not out of anger, but out of a need to taste the love he has for you. You overcome that instinct.Â
The two of you sit in silence for a long, long while, before he talks again.Â
âIâm so sorry. I never shouldâve yelled at you. Youâre just.. scared, and alone..â And doesnât he remember how that felt? How horrible it felt to have nothing, and no one? âIâm sorry.â And he presses a kiss to your head to prove it. You purr in response. He canât help but smile.Â
You trace patterns on his arms, before finding your first words since you woke up this morning,
âIâm sorry.â Itâs a gentle whisper, but Matt hears it all the same.Â
âI know,â He sighs. âWeâre both awful, and weâre both sorry.â He decides, before shaking his head. âNo, Youâre not awful. Iâm sorry, youâre wonderful.â He presses another kiss to your head.
But you are awful, you want to tell him, but it hurts to think, let alone talk.Â
Matt holds you for a long moment, before asking,Â
âCan you tilt your head up for me?â He wonders, âI want to see your face.âÂ
And although talking feels like a herculean task, you cannot help but offer him an olive branch. Your hand leaves his arm, and a finger traces the space between Mattâs eyes, down the bridge of his nose.Â
âCanât see.â You whisper, and Matt smiles. What a pretty smile, you think for the millionth time.Â
âI know,â he says softly, âJust let me..â his hands move now, coming up to your face. Even with his senses, he needs this right now. He places his hands on your cheeks and begins to map out the details of your face with the pads of his fingertips. âOh my god, Youâre beautiful.â He says softly, and it almost comes out as a whine.Â
Then, because Matt really never claimed to be a perfect man, his lips are on yours. Itâs perfect. You taste of salty tears, a vague mint toothpaste and.. a copper taste he doesnât care to think about. But youâre perfect. Youâre beautiful, and youâre perfect. Heâs kissing you, cradling your face with his hands, and then, he comes to his senses and pulls back.
âIâm so sorry,â he gasps, âI never shouldâveâI shouldâve asked you before I did that, please donâtââ But then, youâre kissing him. And he likes that even more. He responds with a hum and he continues to kiss you, your hand gently rubbing small, comforting circles around where you bit him.Â
You pull away and bring his arm to your lips. He inhales sharply, and you kiss where youâve torn his flesh with your teeth over the bandage.
âIâm sorry.â You mumble softly, and Matt shakes his head.Â
âI told you, we can talk about it later.â He offers, and then he kisses you again, but he pulls away after a moment. âBut maybe you should wash the taste of it out of your mouth. Just so I can keep kissing you. Then, we can have dinner.â He offers, and this seems reasonable enough, besides, you need to wipe the crust and exhaustion from your meltdown away with a warm washcloth.Â
But, you canât help yourself.
âKiss?â You wonder, the word coming out as a chirp more than anything else.Â
And of course, Matt obliges you. Even if he thinks, maybe, he can taste his own flesh on your lips. Itâs not exactly a turn on, but youâre his beautiful, perfect, freak of a girl. So, he kisses you again.Â
-
Well, tonight sucks. It didnât start out so bad, not really, and then it started to rain. It always made it harder for him to be Daredevil in the rain, the extra noise always distracting him or hiding sounds. As he made his way home, it really started to pour, just as Matt was really processing the growing ache in his side from when someone landed a particularly powerful punch.
Then, as he made his way home, back to his beloved apartment, his apartment where you wait for him, where you sleep soundly in his bed, completely oblivious to the bad night heâs having, he hears a woman cry for help, the click of a gun, and a whisper for her to stay quiet.Â
She got away as soon as Matt dropped down, as soon as the man who deserves much worse than Matt will ever give him turns his attention towards the devil. But a loud clap of thunder caught Matt off guard, and suddenly, heâs the one whoâs getting the shit beaten out of him.
If he can survive tonight, tomorrow is going to be just as bad, heâll be in pain and youâll be so sad, and the idea of that is somehow worse than when the man hits Matt right in the nose and he hears a devastating crack!
Then, the man finds his gun that Matt had kicked out of his hand.Â
Mattâs thankful he can only hear so much since heâs so concussed.Â
He was stupid, letting his guard down like that.
Now, heâll die the same way his father died, with someone waiting for him to come home, depending on him. He feels the end of the gun on his forehead, ribs aching every time he inhales or exhales. Will you ever know how much he loves you? Will you ever know what happened to him, how he was really on his way back to you, to your arms, to your lips, when he died?Â
Will you ever know that he would do anything for you, that the very love youâve been craving is just two blocks away, head throbbing?Â
He thinks about the sounds you make when you cry, and it makes his heart ache. Heâs saved you just to tear you right back down, devastating you by rehabilitating you, making you fall in love with him, and then, leaving you.Â
His weird, perfect girl with scars from needles, with an affinity for blood, a craving for flesh, and an ability you probably donât quite understand yourself. His perfect, strange girl who he could drink up like lemonade on a sunny day, who snuck up on him, and yet, he feels like his life lead right to your side.Â
Silly, silly him for thinking he could be happy. For thinking that things could work out for poor, tortured Matthew.Â
He closes his eyes behind his mask and waits to die.
But the shot never comes.Â
Instead, the man drops his gun from Mattâs head, as he starts to cough, and then, Matt can smell his blood.Â
From what he can tell, itâs dripping down the manâs face from his nose, then, heâs gurgling on his own blood as it pours out of his mouth, and then, blood is coming from his eye sockets, and the balls of his eyes roll backâ complete with a subtle snap, coming from somewhere in the manâs skull. He falls to the ground then, lifeless.Â
Matt feels like he canât breathe, and thatâs when he processes you, at the end of the alleyway, blood running down yourface from your nose. Your hand comes up to wipe it away, and then youâre kneeling in front of him, your hands on his cheeks, cradling him softly.
Heâs shaking now, and you hate the man you just killed with everything you have for making him so scared.Â
âYou are hurt,â you tell him, studying his features. Matt shakes his head, even though that makes it worse,
âIâm okay...â He mumbles, which is true, he will live but he does feel shell shocked, not to mention his numerous injuries. âIâm alright.â He comforts, and then he pulls you in close, wrapping his arms around you, still shaking, still freezing from the rain, still concussed and still terrified, of dying, of the man lying on the groundâ and you wrap your arms around him, gently stroking his head like he has done to you so many timesâÂ
âItâs okay, Honey.â You echo a familiar comfort, and then, your lips are on his, kissing him. Matt canât help himself. He didnât think heâd be able to kiss you again, so he relishes it. The idea that any kiss with you could be the last one freaks him out, maybe even more than the thought of dying.Â
Matt has exactly one thought as he inhales the smell of so much bloodâ
What the hell are you?Â













