The Last 30 Days [Inactive]

"Afterwards you can hit me or whatever," he said, taking Isabelle's smaller hand in his. "Get out your anger and frustration," he explained, leading them to the door.


It didn't take them long to get to Isabelle's house, and when they did, Blake didn't make a move to get out. He waited for Isabelle to be the first to open the door so he knew she was ready.
 
Isabelle gripped the door handle, she saw her mom's car in the driveway, it made it harder to go inside. She jumped down from the car, rubbing her arm awkwardly.


The cute little house, with it's blue shutters, was exactly the same. With a heavy heart, she knocked on the door.


"Izzy?" Judith swung the door open angrily and pulled the girl inside. " Where have you been?"
 
Blake hadn't really expected the condescending tones to come out straight away but he shuffled inside the house, hand protectively resting on the small of Isabelle's back. He didn't speak, in fact he was unsure of what he would say. He decided that unless things got out of hand or if he was spoken to he would not speak up.
 
"What did you think you were doing?" Judy had asked for the hundreth time. Isabelle shamefully looked at her feet.


"I'm so-"


"Don't you love me?" Her mother appeared some time earlier, gripping Isabelle by her arm. "After all I've done? Raised you, cared for you, and now you're whoring around with men?"


"I'm not-" Isabelle interjected, receiving a firm slap to her face.


Between Judith, Isabelle, and her mother Catherine there was plenty of yelling. Most of which came from Catherine, angry her daughter had left her.


Isabelle turned to find Blake, tears welled up in her eyes. He wouldn't curse her name, scream at her.


"Look at me when I'm talking to you, Isabelle!" Catherine yelled.


Fighting, tears, this is why she didn't want to comeback. She pulled herself free of her mother's vicelike grip and sprinted outside. She'd had enough.
 
Several times Blake had tried to intervene but all the attempts were quickly shot down by the screams of Isabelle's mother. Blake stood after Isabelle ran out, staring at Catherine with a disgusted look on his face.


"Of course your daughter doesn't love you. You hit her and insult her and you still think she'll run back to you with open arms?" Blake had so much to say, he wasn't able to process his thoughts and pronounce the words quick enough. "And whoring around with men? This just proves how little you know about Isabelle, and just to make my point even clearer, I don't date promiscuous women." He sucked in a breath and only slightly more calmly said, "I forced her over here thinking it would be healthier for both of you, but apparently I was very wrong."


Blake waited for a response, but then he remembered something and looked at Judith. "And you're not much better. How does it feel to just stand there while Isabelle is being abused like this? I hope it rots your soul."
 
Catherine looked like she might charge for Blake, but Judith held her back. "Isabelle might look the other way, but he won't." Judith didn't even look up at Blake again. "Get out." She instructed.


Isabelle curled up outside the truck. Cursing when she found it locked. The screaming pierced her head, making her sick to her stomach.


She laid down in the grass, trying not to throw up. It was a bad idea, coming home.
 
Blake huffed and turned on his heel. He slammed the door shut behind him and as soon as it was closed, his tough face fell and he reached up to grab at his hair.


"Oh, god, Isabelle. I'm so sorry. I had no idea it was that bad, I can't even..." He rushed to her side, lifting her to her feet. He wanted to get out of there as soon as possible.
 
"Let's just go." Isabelle sobbed. She received an enormous head rush from being pulled up. They said no more.


Even driving back, she curled up in the seat. She cried quietly until they were back at the apartment and safe inside. It wasn't his fault, Blake couldn't have known why she was so fearful about going home. Wordlessly she took off her shoes and shrugged away from him, towards the living room.


Isabelle sat on his couch, trying to ignore the throbbing headache. Yelling didn't help the headache she'd already had in the morning.
 
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