The Last Tear I Bled

⚠️ Trigger Warning:

This chapter contains scenes of graphic violence, references to past abuse, and intense emotional distress. Reader discretion is advised.

....

"Papa was a secret agent, Ilay," she whispered.

"And I think… someone found out."

My blood ran cold.

Serene was still curled against my chest, her voice soft like a dream. Like she hadn't just set my entire world on fire.

She looked up at me again, eyes wide and heavy. "We had to leave Spain in the middle of the night. I didn't know why. Mama packed fast. She told me never to talk about it, not even to the neighbors."

I didn't breathe.

She kept going, her voice thinner now. "And after a while, Papa said he left that job. That it was over. But I don't know, Ilay… what if—"

I cut her off.

"Don't," I said quickly, brushing her hair back from her forehead. "It's not. Don't think like that, okay?"

Her brows pinched, uncertain. "But—"

"It's not that, Serene," I lied. "It was an accident. Just bad luck. That's all."

She was quiet.

And I hated myself for how easy the lie came out.

Because I knew.

Not the who, not the how.

But I knew it was murder.

Brakes don't just get cut. Officers don't whisper like that unless it's bad. Unless it's real.

But I wasn't going to tell her that.

I couldn't.

Not when she just started sleeping through the night again. Not when the color was slowly returning to her cheeks.

I couldn't be the one to rip her world apart a second time.

So I kissed the top of her head and whispered, "Sleep. I'm here."

She didn't argue.

Just curled closer. Breathing slow. Trusting.

She trusted me.

Even if she didn't know who I really was.

Even if she never knew what I came from.

And that crushed me.

Because I didn't deserve it. Not after what I was keeping from her.

I held her all night.

I always do now.

And when I couldn't sleep, I stared at the ceiling and thought about the thugs who used to laugh while I bled, the doorsteps I got kicked off, the weeks I spent trying not to die.

I'd been used. Broken. Left behind.

Until her.

Serene wasn't light.

She wasn't salvation.

She was safety.

And I wasn't going to give that up.

Not for justice.

Not for revenge.

Not even for the truth.

All I've ever wanted is her.

I don't want war.

I don't want answers.

To wake up to her voice. To walk with her to school. To fall asleep to the sound of her breath.

That's all I've ever needed.

I just need her.

Even with the truth strangling my insides—I felt peace.

Because she was here. With me.

Still mine.

---

Days passed.

The grief didn't go away. Not really.

But she started breathing easier.

Started eating again. Talking more. Laughing sometimes.

She went back to school. Slowly. Quietly.

People pitied her. Hugged her too long. Whispered when they thought she couldn't hear.

I was always beside her. Like a shadow she didn't shake off.

And she didn't try to.

Every time I offered my hand, she took it.

Every time I reached for her, she leaned in.

She still hadn't moved back to her own room.

I didn't ask her to.

Because the space beside me belonged to her.

I knew the world outside hadn't changed. I knew danger still hovered in corners.

But I didn't care.

As long as she was okay, I didn't care.

Because the last time I tried to fight back, I lost everything.

This time?

I was going to hold on.

I was going to hold on.

I swear I was.

But then this bastard walked up to her.

His name was something stupid—Levan or whatever the hell they called guys with perfect teeth and cologne that smelled like thirst traps.

He stopped in front of her locker. Said something dumb like,

"Hey… Serene, right? I just wanted to say I'm really sorry about your parents."

His voice was low. Smooth. The kind of voice that tried too hard to sound sincere.

She looked up, nodded politely. "Thanks."

That should've been it.

But no.

He kept going.

"I can't imagine what you're going through," he added, stepping closer. Too close. His arm brushed hers. "If you ever need someone to talk to… I'm always here."

My jaw clenched.

I was standing just across the hallway.

Frozen.

Watching.

Watching as this guy—this stranger—leaned in like he deserved to be near her.

And then—

he reached out.

His hand lifted toward her face.

Like he was going to touch her cheek.

Like she was something soft. Something broken. Something his filthy, fake sympathy had earned the right to touch.

My mind went white.

One second I was standing still.

The next?

I was in front of him.

Fist to his face.

Bone to bone.

The sound was sickening and beautiful all at once.

He stumbled back, hand flying to his nose, but I didn't stop.

I shoved him against the lockers. Grabbed his collar.

Punched again.

And again.

And again.

Blood smeared across his lip. Down his chin.

Someone screamed.

I didn't care.

All I saw was Serene's face.

All I heard was her soft voice telling me about her papa.

All I could feel was this ugly, suffocating, soul-crushing fear that she'd leave me too. That someone would steal her away. That I'd lose the only thing—the only person—that ever made life worth anything.

"You don't touch her!" I snarled between punches. "You don't even look at her!"

The guy choked out something that sounded like stop.

But I wasn't listening.

Not to him.

Not to the hands trying to pull me off.

Not even to Serene's voice saying my name.

All I heard was every scream I'd ever held in. Every time I was left to rot. Every time I had to bleed in silence.

And Serene—

Serene was my light.

My warmth.

My whole goddamn reason to breathe.

No one got to touch her.

No one.

Not even the fucking sun.

The world was red.

His face. My fists. The lockers behind him.

I couldn't stop.

Wouldn't.

My knuckles were split open—didn't care.

He kept coughing, trying to shield his face—didn't care.

The teachers were shouting now. Someone had gone to call for help.

But none of it mattered.

None of it.

Because all I could think was—

He touched her.

He thought he could take her.

And I saw it.

That tiny flicker in her eyes—the one she gave to people she pitied. That softness. That ache.

She gave him that.

And I—

"Ilay!"

Her voice.

Not a whisper. Not a plea.

A scream.

"Ilay, stop or I'll leave."

Everything inside me just—

Snapped.

I froze.

Breath caught halfway up my throat.

My fist stayed midair, shaking.

The blood on my hands.

The silence in the hall.

I turned.

She was standing there.

Eyes wide. Voice trembling. Hands clenched.

"Please," she whispered. "Just stop."

And right then—

with her looking at me like she didn't recognize me anymore—

I realized I might've just fucked everything up.