━━ CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR/ anthony

Demi didn't sleep in Lockwood's bed when they got home. She didn't even sleep in her own bed. Instead, she curled up on the couch downstairs and stared at the wall while the house fell dead silent. Demi didn't want to sleep, she didn't feel like it. Every time she closed her eyes, all she could see was Francis. Her dark skin, wide smile and gorgeous brown eyes that Demi forgot how much she missed. It was too much and every time she closed her eyes, she saw as the light disappeared from Francis'. It made her want to sob.

But there were no tears left to cry and so when she heard someone walk down the stairs after an hour or so of simply staring, she didn't have anything to be worried about. There was no physical evidence of how everything was eating her up inside. Her back hurt and she ignored it. Her knuckles had begun to bruise from the punch she had thrown at Kipps but she ignored it. Not one physical indicator that she was in pain.

Yet, she was. Demi had become an expert at hiding it and she cuddled the pillow closer to her chest as she heard the kitchen door open. Her eyes fell closed for a moment, hoping that it would provide some reprieve but Francis appeared again. Her smile, that smile. The smile that she could never seem to forget. The smile she wore until the very end.

Demi opened her eyes again and stared off. The sun leaked through a gap in the curtains and at some point, the gap was closed. At first, she wasn't sure who did it and then someone placed a cup of tea on the coffee table and her favourite pack of biscuits - ginger nuts - were placed down too.

"I didn't know if you wanted tea but I was making some anyway. I can hear Lockwood pacing so I couldn't sleep," George's voice was soft, attempting to be a little humorous but they both knew it fell flat. Demi forced an attempt at a smile on her face and briefly met George's gaze before her face burrowed back into the pillow.

"Thanks." Demi's voice was hoarse, quiet and tired. They were all so tired. She could even hear it in George's voice which made her feel guilty. More guilty because Lockwood was only awake because he was worried. Every question he had thrown Demi's way had been ignored and she had given him nothing at all. Not even a look. It made sense he was worried, "I'll talk to him," She decided after a moment. George opened his mouth to protest but Demi was already up and halfway to the staircase before he had the chance.

He could see that every movement she made hurt her. It was obvious in the stiff movements and quiet way she spoke. Demi - even after it all - was loud. She was such an obvious presence in a room. George didn't like what she had been reduced to. He had never seen her like this and it scared him, scared him so much.

The brunette reached the landing and walked over to Lockwood's door. She didn't knock. She could hear his feet shuffling across the floor and his head snapped up, ready to apologise to George but it wasn't George. It was Demi and he froze, unsure what to do.

"Please, stop pacing. You're keeping George awake," Demi said softly. It was nothing like her usual tone. It was so defeated and the frown returned to her lips as soon as the words had left. Lockwood nodded. He didn't know what to say and he just stared at her, fumbling over the right thing until it was too late and she had closed the door. George was walking up the stairs now with his mug of tea and she smiled half-heartedly, "Tell me if he starts again. I'll be downstairs." George nodded and walked past up to his room. Demi headed down and her feet tapped against the stairs as she took the steps one at a time. Every single movement made her body ache but she fought to ignore it.

By the time she had made it to the kitchen, she was on the verge of tears from the pain alone and by the time she had made it to the mug shelf, her hands were shaking. And when she tried to grab a mug, it slipped from her grip and smashed. The pieces scattered across the counter and she desperately tried to pick up the broken pieces but her hands were shaking. Her grip was unsure and the slices on her hands were inevitable as she carried them to the bin.

The blood dripped across her palms as she stared down at them. She hadn't moved an inch from where she had dumped the broken pieces in the bin and watched as the red ran rivulets along her skin. Then she heard the kitchen door slam closed - unintentionally - and her head snapped up to meet the concerned gaze of Anthony.

It was painted across his face as he grabbed her wrists, pulling her towards the sink. He was careful and Demi didn't even bother protesting as he switched the tap on and shoved her hands underneath. His hands moved to her face, pushing hair away from her features as he looked at her. Demi recognised that he was speaking, she could see his mouth moving but the words didn't seem to reach her.

He turned away from her, still speaking as he used his free hand to help scrub the blood away from her palms. And the sudden jolt of pain sent everything crashing back in and the whimper that escaped her lips grabbed Anthony's attention in an instant. He turned his head to look down at her, concern written across his face.

"What happened?" He repeated, seeming to realise that she had come back to reality now.

"I just-" Her words seemed to get choked in her throat, "I just dropped a mug. I was trying to clean it up. I wanted to clean it up. You didn't need to see that. It's fine. I'm fine. It was just an accident." Her words suddenly became frantic and she tried to pull her hands out from Anthony's grip but he didn't let her. He looked at her and then back to her hands and he watched as she tried to slip them out, "I'm okay. Everything is fine. You should go back to sleep. You need the sleep. I'm fine. I promise. It was just a silly accident. I'll get a new mug. It was my one anyway. So it's fine, nobody is gonna miss it. But me, I guess, but it's fine." Her words continued in their frantic pattern as she tried to pull her hands away and she managed to break free, "I'm completely fine. It's just cuts. I've dealt with worse. You need to go to sleep. You've been up all night. You didn't exactly sleep well before this. You should sleep." The rambling continued as she crossed over to the side and grabbed the cloth from the side. She pressed the cloth into her palm, in an attempt to stop the bleeding and collect the blood that would drip down her hand in any other circumstance.

Anthony just stood there, watching her ramble and talk with concerned eyes and a heavy heart. He didn't know what to say. He didn't even know what to say this time.

"Anthony, really, go back to bed. Please. I'm okay." Her voice was soft, gentle, and calm. As if he was a wild animal that she had to keep calm in case he lashed out at her. It was concerning the way she dismissed her own pain.

"I don't want to go back to bed," He responded simply and Demi stared at him. Her eyebrows pulled together and the way her face changed from worry to panic in seconds was obvious.

"What? Why not? You need to sleep. You can sleep. I'm okay." Her words were not a request. They were a demand as she pulled the cloth away from her hand. She showed her - still bleeding - palm to him and smiled, "Look, it's okay," She insisted as the blood dripped down her hand across her wrist. Anthony shook his head.

"Demi, please don't do this again." It was such a soft tone of voice and she just stared. Not even sure what to say in response.

"I'm okay, I promise." The smile was pained. Every movement she made was pained as Anthony approached her. She took a step back every time he got closer until she was trapped against the counter and she stared at her hand and then back at him. He took a hold of her wrist before she had a chance to skitter off again.

"Demi, listen to me," His words were firm but not angry. The concern laced every single bit of it as he looked into her eyes. She stared at him, not saying a word, "You're not fine and that is okay. Let me help you." Demi stared at him, letting the tears fill her eyes as his face blurred. No matter how much she blinked, it didn't change a thing and then she collapsed into his arms. He held onto her tightly and used his free hand to cradle her head as she sobbed against his chest.

He wasn't sure how long they stood like that for but the blood had dried up by the time the sobs had subsided and all the fight had left Demi's body as she sat on the kitchen table. Her eyes had glazed over. Not a single thought left behind them as Lockwood held her hand and gently cleaned the cuts. He removed all the blood, wrapped anything he feasibly could (mainly the cuts on her fingers) and gave her two painkillers.

And when he helped her to her feet, it became clear to him that she was too weak and so, he picked her up. An arm under her knees and the other under her back as her arms wrapped lazily around his neck. Her head curled up underneath his chin.

It was a slow trip up the stairs but Demi didn't really know what was going on. It was a blur but she remembered the way she kicked up a fuss when he tried to take her to her own bedroom. From what she remembered, she tried to get out of his arms when he went to take the stairs up again. So, he turned around and they went into his bedroom.

He had asked if she wanted pyjamas - she did - but she also didn't want him to leave so Anthony did his best to give her what she wanted. Mainly in the form of one of his t-shirts that covered her up and a pair of shorts from when he was a kid that fit her loosely but well. He turned away when she changed into them and when he turned back, Demi was standing in front of him.

And she remembered this bit well. She remembered going to kiss him but he turned his head slightly so she kissed his cheek instead. It was so clear in her mind and the way that it made her heart ache was enough to make all the pain come rushing back. But she didn't show it as they walked back to the bed and she curled up away from him.

It was illogical and even in the moment, Demi knew it was. But the rejection made everything worse. However, thankfully sleep took her easily even if it wasn't a particularly fitful sleep.

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