Less than Perfect by S. J. Evans (love letters to the dead txt) 📕

couldn’t save herself. And in a way, she still was that damsel, but it didn’t matter, because Johnny hadn’t claimed her. He didn’t own her like that.
She was free. And she realized how much she was glad to be alive.
Something touched her shoulder, gently, and she drew away, shivering at the touch. The cold fingers reminded her of Johnny’s even though she knew they didn’t belong to him. Victor was being careful and considerate, and yet, she was scared. Scared of contact; scared of being hurt again.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. Her voice was soft and worn, so soft that she figured Victor couldn’t hear her words. She didn’t really know why she was apologizing—she knew she had every right to be afraid of a man’s touch after what she’d just gone through—but there was something about Victor that she couldn’t quite understand, something she’d never entirely felt before—kindness

. There was a sense of something more behind him, something more considerate than what he gave away. Had she missed it because of her feelings for Jules? Or was she mistaken? She wasn’t sure.
“Hey, it’s okay,” Victor said in a hushed tone. His hand fell away from her shoulder, his breathing the only thing touching Skye. He was leaning beside her, close enough so that there was barely an inch between them. Sighing, he shook his head, unable to decide if he should touch her again or not. “He’s not going to hurt you again, Skye. Consider him dead to you, all right?”
Shaking her head, she managed to pull herself up, not without complications, and looked into his bright eyes. When she saw his face all of her thoughts fell away, guilt pulling at her heart. “You’re hurt,” she breathed. “Oh Victor, I’m so sorry. I can’t believe you got mixed into this.”
He laughed a shaky and empty laugh, bringing his hand close to her arm but stopping short. “Don’t be sorry, Skye,” he told her, hastily. “I’m not really all that bad off. I’m the one who should be apologizing. I didn’t get here soon enough.” His voice fell, Skye barely catching the words as they drifted in the room’s heavy air.
“You

?” she gasped, taken aback. “You couldn’t have known, Victor. Why on earth would you feel responsible for this? You saved my life

. If you hadn’t been here…well…h—he would’ve…” she stopped short. Her breath caught in her throat and tears burned in the back of her eyes, images flashing in her mind of Johnny’s body above her, abusing her. She turned away from Victor, ashamed and scared.
“I know,” he replied. There was pain in his subtle voice, possibly understanding and sorrow of the situation. “But I wish I could’ve stopped him sooner. I let Jules and, more importantly, you down. Jules was worried about you, he told me Johnny seemed like bad news and wanted me to check on you, make sure everything was okay, so I came as soon as I can. But I feel like I should’ve gotten here earlier, should’ve saved you before that man went as far as he did. If you’re important to Jules, as important as he says you are, you’re important to me. And I almost failed you both.”
Even though her mind was still spinning with burdening confusion, humiliation, and sorrow, Skye managed to grapple onto the words being spoken to her. It was hard for her to think about Jules, hard for her to really think about anything, but when it came to realizing how much he really cared and looked out for her, she tried with everything she had to think about him. She wanted to understand how he’d read into her and Johnny so well, understanding and seeing something even her own mother couldn’t see—she wanted to know him as well as he knew her. Her heart yearned for him with power so strong it oppressed her.
Dividing her thoughts about Jules from her thoughts about the situation at hand, the one involving his best-friend, she took an unsteady breath and looked at him again. In his eyes she saw a sort of pain he seemed to be struggling with, his usually bright eyes dark and empty. It pained her to see him like that, so different from his normal, smug self—she didn’t want to see any more pain from someone close to her, even if the two of them weren’t really all that “close”.
He averted his gaze quickly, as if he could read her thoughts, and looked at her wrists instead. A frown slid up his features, she noticed behind the hair falling around his face. He touched her wrists then, where the bonds still were, and his fingers brushed across the aching skin. He’d never seemed to be such a careful man before; he was incredibly graceful and composed most of the time, but Skye hadn’t ever thought of him as careful—until that moment.
“You haven’t failed either of us, Victor,” she whispered, unsure of her own voice. “Or come close to it. You saved me, Victor. So there’s nothing else you have to worry about, okay?” She choked on her words a little, slightly unsure of them. They were true, yes, but hard for her to believe. Victor was the last person she imagined would be her knight in shining armor.
He nodded his head a little, shaking. His breath brushed over Skye’s skin, sending chills up her already cold arms. Something about his touch, so soon after what Johnny had just done to her, triggered a deep and troubling fear, a pain she wished she could rid from her system, and she pulled herself away, grimacing.
His hand slipped from her bound wrists for a moment, dropping to a place on the floor beside her. He muttered something incoherent under his breath, shaking his head, and kept his eyes on her bleeding wrists.
“I’m sorry, Skye,” he sighed. “I’m just trying to help. I know it must be hard for you, physical contact that is, so soon after what that monster just did to you. But your wrists are bleeding; you need my help.”
“It is hard,” she confirmed, shuddering. “But you’re right, Vic. I need help.” After the words passed her lips, silence filled the air, heavy and unbearable. Chills prickled her exposed skin, a sudden awareness of her lack in attire toppling into her thoughts. Suddenly all she wanted was to cover up, get away from Johnny’s unconscious body, and care for her beaten body.
Managing to turn in the other direction, she bit down fear with bitter sobs and forced herself closer to him, her hands right beside his. “Please,” she pleaded. “Help me?”
His lips tipped into a small smile as he pulled on the wound wire, untying the restraint. “I’m sorry you had to go through all that,” he mumbled, sliding the wire off of her wounded wrists. “You didn’t deserve any of it.”
“Can you drop it, please?” she asked hastily. “I’d rather not talk or think about it.”
He ran a hand through his hair, flustered. “Of course.”
Rubbing at her newly freed and sore wrists, she attempted to get up, only to fall back on her behind just as quickly. Her body ached all over, disabling her ability to manage well on her own. She hated it, all of it. Hated the pain, the fear, the insecurity—it made her feel weak. And she didn’t want to feel that way anymore.
Before she could even object, one hand touched her back while the other touched her legs, pulling her up into lean arms in the next moment. Without the realization of who it really was, she tried to pull away but couldn’t, too exhausted.
“Vic,” she breathed, shivering in his arms. Around her wrists, where the wire had once been, blood trickled, painting her hands and his shirt with red. “What are you doing?”
“Getting you out of here,” he said. “You’re cold, wounded, and exhausted, Skye. And don’t even try to tell me you can stand being in the same room as that man, even if he is unconscious, ‘cause I know you can’t. You’re afraid of him, and you have every right to be, but please don’t be afraid of me too. I only want to help you, Skye.”
She didn’t fight him at all, knowing what he said was right, and closed her eyes instead, letting herself burry into his chest, the warmth somewhat reassuring. “Thank you,” she murmured, clutching his shirt with weak hands. She tried to bury her fear, bury her worries, but Johnny’s abuse kept flashing through her memory on repeat, creating uneasiness in her stomach. Vaguely, she felt the heavy air cling to her bare skin and shivered, aware and embarrassed about how exposed she really was.
“Wait,” she snapped, suddenly uncomfortable with how close they were. “Set me down, Victor. I—I have to do something.”
He looked down at her, stopping in his tracks, and narrowed his brows. “Don’t you want to get out of here, Skye? Last time I checked, you couldn’t even stand, so how do you suppose you’re going to manage anything else?”
With a sigh she tried to wiggle out of his arms, pressing against his firm chest. “Please, Vic,” she pleaded. “Put me down.”
Carefully, he set her down, holding onto the small of her back to keep her steady. A smile played about his lips, amused by something. “What is it you need to do?”
Intimidated by how close he was to her, she stumbled back a step and kept her gaze on the floor. Uncomfortable with how exposed she felt, under the certain circumstances, she shied away from him, blushing.
“I’m cold,” she spluttered. “I need to cover up.”
When he didn’t say anything right away, curiosity beckoned her gaze away from the floor and on his face instead. He stood, much taller than her, examining her with an almost bewildered expression on his face. Then it hit him, like a ton of bricks, and his expression changed back to a cool, amused look.
She bit her lip, even more uncomfortable than before.
“Of course,” he finally said. Turning on his heel, he looked down at Johnny’s still unconscious body and grimaced. “Make it quick though, Skye. We’ve got to get out of here and call the police. Johnny will stay under awhile longer, but even I can’t stand the sight of him.”
Nodding her head, though she knew he wouldn’t see it, she stumbled over to a rack beside her dresser and pulled on her bathrobe. As she wrapped it around herself, she sighed in the warmth and security. She still felt uncomfortable, partially exposed, but she knew the sooner she was out of Johnny’s presence, the better.
Driven by the thought of leaving the room that now held such dark memories, she started making her way out of it. But, with the little strength she had, she only made it a few feet before her knees buckled and she fell to the ground. She winced upon impact, cringing at the pain that spread up her shaky legs.
“Skye!” Victor exclaimed, turning around and hurrying towards her. “What were you thinking? Did you forget I was going to help you get downstairs?”
“No, Vic,” she snapped. “I just