She sniffed as I pulled her gently inside the house by the
arm that didn’t appear to be injured. She shuffled in behind me and shut the
door gently behind her. Leading her to the couch I sat her down gently and reached
out to wipe a stray tear from her cheek. I was taken aback when she flinched
away and immediately, I was reminded of the situation between us.
“What happened?” I asked again gently, taking a seat on the
coffee table opposite her.
“He, h-he was so angry. He just kept pushing me, and hitting
me. He wouldn’t stop. I couldn’t get him off. He just kept h-hurting me” she
cried, a wave of fresh salty tears streaming down her face. She hissed as one
traced over the cut on her lip, the salt irritating the freshly torn skin.
“Who kept hurting you?” I asked. The answer of course was
obvious, it was that douche she left me for, the jumped up pretty boy who
walked around with a silver spoon up his arse. He was the bastard who hurt her,
the lowlife scum who dared lay a finger on her beautiful body.
“Andrew” she mumbled, wiping away the tears as more
continued to fall. She continued to cradle her left arm in her lap. I reached
out slowly to examine it, most of the damage hidden beneath the jumper she
wore. I flicked my eyes up to hers for any hint of hesitation or reluctance she
might have to me touching her, but she simply watched my movements carefully. I
took her lack of response as confirmation to continue and gently brushed the
sleeve of her jumper up to her elbow, revealing the skin beneath.
Across her once flawless skin, dark purple bruises of
various sizes littered the surface. They were various sizes and shapes, but the
ones around her wrist were obviously fingerprints, deep purple ovals where he
held a tight grasp on her arm, pinning her against the wall or simply
restraining her, I didn’t want to know.
I brushed the pad of my thumb over the wound causing her to
hiss in pain. The blood was boiling inside my body, the internal rage that
someone had dare hurt her making me feel sick as red began to cloud my vision.
“Why did he do this to you?” I seethed.
“He came home from work early. I was sitting on the couch
looking through old photos of me and you and he just lost it. He said I was
cheating on him with you. He kept calling me a slut and whore and when I stood
up for myself, he started hitting me” she explained gently.
“Has he ever done this to you before?” I asked.
“No. He’s got angry with me before and frightened me a bit,
but he’s never hit me” she said, tenderly removing my hand from her wrist and
pulling her sleeve back down. She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear
and looked me in the eyes for the first time since entering our house, my house.
There was a lull in the conversation as Y/N watched me
internally combust, tear myself apart from the inside out as I imagined all the
things he had done to her. Usually the thought of his hands on her body
repulsed me, but the thought of his hands hurting her body was about to send me
on a murderous rampage.
But my first thought was to care for the girl I love. I left
her on the couch as I jogged to the bathroom to get the first aid kit before
returning and crouching in front of her. I applied a soothing cream that would
help draw the bruise to her face and arm, ensuring that my touch was as gently
as possible so that I didn’t cause her any more pain. Whenever my fingers
traced a more delicate patch of skin she would bite her lip firmly and try to
keep a steady face, desperate to hide her discomfort from me.
I was tending to the cut on her lip when I spoke.
“Why were you looking at pictures of us?” I asked gently, continuing
to wipe to antibacterial swab across the cut to clean it. Her eyes wavered
between mine, hesitant and unsure as she thought of her answer.
“I was missing you, looking at pictures helps me sometimes”
she said quietly, our eyes locked and focused as my hand slowly fell from her
lip. “But sometimes it just makes me miss you more”.
“I’ve been missing you too” I replied.
“I know,” she giggled, “I can tell by the way you look”. Glancing
down at my unwashed clothes and running a hand through my greasy hair, I once
again became aware of how different I must look. She giggled once more as I frowned
at my own appearance, the noise eliciting a buzz in my veins as I cherished the
sound I had missed so much.
“Yeah, I’ve looked better” I said.
“You’ve also looked worse” she retaliated and I laughed, a
loud, hearty laugh that lifted so much weight from my shoulders. I haven’t
laughed since she left, and the relief it brought nearly collapsed my fragile
“I’m sorry I left you the way I did. After everything we had
and everything we’ve been through, you deserved a better ending than that” she
said, changing the tone of the conversation. I was about to open my mouth to
say that it was ok before she held her hand and interrupted.
“And don’t say it’s ok, because it isn’t. No one deserves to
be left that was, especially you” she said. I couldn’t think of the right words
to say. Should I tell her that, no, it wasn’t fair to leave me that way, that
she took everything with her when she left. Or should I ease her troubled mind,
sooth her thoughts and comfort her when she was suffering so much more that I was
probably even aware. I decided to leave it.
“Are you going to go back to him?” I asked, desperate for
the answer I had been craving since she arrived at the door. With a small
frown, she shook her head.
“No, I won’t put myself back into that situation. It was
coming to an end anyway. It’s hard to be with someone when you are in love with
someone else” she said. Within seconds she placed her finger on my lip,
silencing the words that were about to spill, preventing me from telling her
that I love her too.
“Not now, we can talk properly later, I just need to sort my
head out first,” I nodded my head and respected her wishes, “I also need to
figure out how to get my stuff back from his house without seeing him” she
said, chewing the inside of her cheek.
“I’ll get it for you,” I said with a complacent shrug, “and
maybe beat the shit out of him as well” I said.
Y/N laughed, a wide smile, bright eyed laugh that echoed off
the walls of our broken home. Immediately, our surrounding brightened, brought
back to life simply with her presence, her mere existence bringing life back
into everything around her. She grinned at me as I examined her with and awe
that can only come when you love someone with your body and soul.