Why?

Originally Written: 12.04.23

Re-written: 17.07.25

**Contains: Mentions/depictions of abuse, story is written in first person**

NFF


Huddled in a back corner, I am nervously looking around the room, trying to see if there’s any possible way for him to get me other than the door that I’ve had my eyes glued to since I came in. It looks okay, so I pull up my knees and rest my head on them. I take a deep breath in and let it out slowly; it comes out shaky. How did I get here? I’m tired and hurt and… and finally broken.

I start crying as I think about all the love and hope that I once carried for him.

Thinking that he would actually change.

How naïve I had been to think that he would keep his promises, and try to get help. I guess I didn’t know him that well after all.

People use to tell me that there was a God, and I believed them… until the day – that one, stupid day – I really got to know him. That’s when I started saying otherwise. If only they could see the twisted and demented things that happen after the 3:15 bell goes off. If there was a God, why would he make me go through this? Look at how messed up and twisted I’ve become, because ‘God’ decided to do this to me? I don’t think so! What kind of, of monster purposely makes a person walk down a path of torture and humiliation? I choose to believe that there is no God because if there was, he is the exact same disturbed thing that I’ve come to hate.

My head shoots up as I hear him pound on the door, my heart rate instantly quickening. I knew I should’ve kept running. I slowly get up, not letting my eyes off of the door. I never thought he’d find menot here.

“Darling,” his too-sweet voice churns my stomach, “You know you can’t hide from me.”

I back myself up as my eyes sweep the room again, hoping to find something I can use as a weapon. The rooms’ still as empty as when I ran in, of course. I don’t know why I expected any different. I feel my back hit the back wall and know I’m totally screwed.

I hear the door break open with a deafening crash see him enter. I drop back to the floor in a futile attempt to hide. I hold my breath and hope he doesn’t see me in the corner. He stands just inside the doorway, eyes scanning the room as he sniffs the air. Tracking me. He spots me and smirks, taking his time to close the gap between us.

I put my head down in my arms, curled up in a ball, tensing my body for the impending strike. I wait for the acid like sting of him on me.

It doesn’t come.

I lift my head and see him standing right over me, just watching with that stupid smirk on his face. What the hell? The room is so quiet I am sure that he can hear how hard my heart is pounding.

“What?”

I involuntarily flitch as his spit lands on my cheek, but I don’t break the gaze. His face twitches with something I’ve never seen before he pulls me up and I feel tears begin to well up. No, please… not now. I get the familiar daunting chill rushing through my body. I turn away from him, silently hoping I can hold the tears back long enough to avoid another possible beating. I hold my breathe and find part of me hoping I don’t further upset him.

Then, I feel it – one, single tear.

It’s as if it happens in slow motion. I feel the warmth of it begin to trace its way down from my eye to my cheek. I see it linger on the tip of my chin and find myself praying that it just stays there. It departs from my chin and slowly falls towards the hardwood floor. It makes a barely audible sploosh and suddenly my head is jerked to face him again.

“Why won’t you face me?”

His grip on my chin ensures I can’t look anywhere but his eyes. I swear I can practically see the hell fire coming out of the black hole he calls his soul.

He bellow’s out in frustration and throws me to the ground. My head bashes against the wall, making me instantly dizzy. I can feel blood begin flowing down my face and I suppress a jaded laugh… at least I’m not choking on his cologne anymore. There used to be a time when I found the smell of him comforting… That was a long time ago. I’d rather get hit with bricks than be that close to him again.

I somehow manage to get up on all fours. I go to get up but am stopped by the familiar pressing of his boot on my practically broken back. He stomps down, squishing me against the floor. I gasp for breath and try to get up, to get at least some air back into my lungs.

“You want air?”

He releases the pressure ever so slightly and for a second I think he’s actually being nice. I go to stand up again but am only greeted by his evil cackle and a face full of concrete. I hear a sickening crack as I feel my head bounce up off the ground. Stars dance across my vision before I finally pass out.


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