Uranus' POV

Anxiety builds up in me, spreading through every inch of my body like a toxin. I've been waiting under Destiny's house for a couple of minutes now. Nevertheless, she didn't respond to my message, nor show up at her window. Since I'm sure she isn't asleep, I try to text her again.

U: Destiny? That isn't a joke anymore.
U: Look down! I'm waiting.
U: I'm worried about you now.

Again, I hear her phone's notifications. I don't know what to do either. Destiny's parents like me, yet they're overprotective. They wouldn't appreciate a visitor at their doorstep in the middle of the night (to them) even if it's me unless it's an emergency. I don't even know whether this is an emergency, or she's asleep.

"Dammit," I hiss, but it still sounded thunderous concerning the silent atmosphere.

Contemplating my life, even more, I choose to call her before going for the more dangerous plan of showing up in front of The Elliot's house now.

No answer.

No answer? That shit is real. Destiny is usually a light-sleeper, unlike me. Further, as I'm making my way to the front door, a hand grabs me by the wrist. Good news is that its human hands; Destiny's hand, to be specific. The bad news is what the hell is she doing outside now?

"Shit," I scoff violently, "What are you doing outside?" Unfastening her grip on my wrist, I pull back, "NOW?"

She digs her head into my chest, and I can feel her tears flowing down her face onto my shirt. Taken aback, I drop the questions and hug her tightly back. Pressuring her with questions now will only lead to her leaving. I've seen the vulnerable part of Destiny before, and believe me her control vanishes then. Destiny pretends to harness everything, so that doesn't fall back again. She's not even this bossy.

Her weeping sounds become more resonant that it might wake her parents up. Taking her a safe distance away from the house, we sit on the grass. I can spot the puffiness of her eyes and the redness of her face. A bruise on her wrist is visible too. The blood dried on her bare hands, making them stingy. Her sweat mingles with red liquid making its red colour lighter.

For the first time, I see her face. Something or someone smashed the makeup all around her face. Her lipstick is on her cheeks, and her eye makeup ruined from sobbing.

"Who did this to you?" I spat, anger building up in me.

Again, she holds onto me aggressively, her fingers dipping on my back.

"Who did this, Destiny?" I repeat.

All she does is looking towards her house then to me. Of course! How didn't I perceive this earlier? Her parents must have fought with her. That's why she escaped.

I pat her back softly when she finally rambles something that I couldn't figure out.

"Your parents?" I ask, and she cries more, "I didn't hear you," I plead.

"Michael," she says.