[M] [1/1] (1/1)

I remember the first time you hit me. I remember it as clearly as the cuts and bruises littering my body, like black and blue sprinkles coating my torso. When it happened, I think you were just as surprised as I was. Our mouths were gaping open, your hand still floating in the air as blood rushed to my assaulted cheek. My fingers had traced up my neck and to the offended area, my mind still in shock from what just happened.You'd never hit me before. You'd never done anything hurtful, never even addressed me with anything less than the utmost respect. I was your precious diamond, the thing you loved most and protected with those gentle and loving hands of yours.I suppose times have changed.I'd watched as your Adam's apple bobbed in your throat, watched your lip quiver. The living room was a battlefield around us, the coffee table turned over and the vase your mother gave me for my birthday that year, shattered on the floor. It's sad, how I can't even remember why you got so angry that night in the first place.All I remember was the pain; the endless stream of hits to my chest, blow after blow after blow.“Y-Yongguk...”It was like that simple stutter of your name wiped the shock right off of you, and instead turned into rage. Your face morphed into something indescribable, like one of the monsters I used to fear was hiding under my bed.Now that monster resides in my bed, in my home, in my godforsaken heart.You hit me again. And again and again and again. You didn't stop when I fell to a ball on the floor or when I begged you to stop. You didn't stop when I cried or when blood spilled from my nose and mouth. You didn't stop when I told you that I loved you and apologized endlessly for crimes I never committed. You stopped, I suppose, when it felt right to you. When you felt that I got what I deserved.As quickly as the fists fell, they ceased fire. I remember weeping on the floor, my limbs shaking to a point where I couldn't even get up. You screamed at me to shut up, so I did – I wouldn't have been able to sustain another beating. With heavy breathing, you stormed out of the room and into our bedroom. I watched the lights under the crack of our door fall and I assumed you went to bed.That was when I let out every broken sob you forced me to hold in. I cried for only God knows how long, until my eyes stung from how many tears were shed. My blood was staining the carpet in a sick pattern, creating splotches around the outline of my body. Every bone and muscled ached – things I never even knew I could hurt were burning with even the slightest twitch of my body.So I fell asleep on the floor of our destroyed living room.The next morning, I woke up to your foot digging into my back. You'd turned back around and yelled at me, accusing me of trying to trip you. I must have looked downright pathetic and scared out of my wits, because reluctantly, you refrained from causing me anymore harm.I wish you still felt that pity, that guilt bubbling in your gut like stomach acid. I wish you would still give me a break every once and while, understand that at this rate, you're going to end up killing me. However, as the years have passed and melted away, so has that sympathy. You no long hold back from a beating because you think you're going too hard on me – if anything, you always seem to think you're going far too easy on me.But that morning, the morning after you first hit me, all you did was order me to get myself “cleaned up and pretty. Oh, and clean up the fucking blood from the carpet while you're at it.”So I did. Without a single word or complaint, I dragged myself to the bathroom, crawled over to the sink, and used all the strength in my body to haul myself up. I looked up in the mirror only to cry all over again.There was a large gash over my left eyebrow, stretching downward to make my eye puffy and red. My nose was caked with blood and the ends of my blonde hair were practically dyed crimson. My entire face was swollen, covered with cuts and bruises that would last weeks.You yelled at me to “Stop your damn crying and clean up this mess you made!”I got myself all pretty for you. I cleaned up my cuts and put disinfectant cream on them. I got out my make-up kit and transformed myself into the trophy boyfriend you wanted me to be. I slapped a smile on my lips, acted like nothing was wrong in this sick little scenario of ours, and acted the part. I fixed up everything you broke in the living room, putting everything back in its proper place, like it should be. I made everything perfect – I even got the stain remover and got all of the blood that made me sick to my stomach out of the cream colored carpet. Of course, my limp was evident no matter how hard I tried to cover it and I released and accidental whimper now and again, but I was hoping that you wouldn't notice.“Himchan!” never before had I a reason to flinch at the sound of my name, but I leaped a foot in the air that morning. “How's about you get your lazy ass in here and cook me some fucking breakfast?”It was the first time that I wondered if you had any shame.With shaking hands, I prepared a pleasing breakfast for you, trying to make it seem fit for a king – I didn't want you to get angry anymore. God, how I just wanted that to stop. I wanted you to smile at me, tell me you loved me, kiss me until my heart stopped. I wanted you to apologize for what you'd done, tell me that it would never happen again, just a silly little mistake.You didn't do any of that.I set down the plates in front of you on the kitchen table, gulping when those piercing brown eyes of yours, the ones that I fell in love with, looked right through me. I stood to your side and watched you eat, too afraid to sit at the table with you and in too much pain to actually try and fork something down; I probably would have thrown it back up anyways, so there was no point.You waved me over and patted your lap, commanding, “Sit.”And like that good dog I am, I did. I perched myself down on your lap and let you wrap an arm around my waist like this was any other morning. I let you prop your chin on my shoulder like you weren't leaning against a bruise and looked straight ahead of me as you ate your food.I made believe. I pretended that last night didn't even happen, that it was a nightmare and I was just dealing with the aftershocks of it. I escaped into the silly thought that perhaps this happened in all good relationships, and I was just taking it too personally or being too dramatic about it.Do you know how much I wanted to believe that? How much I wanted to just forget the world and just go back to when the “I love you”'s were still sweet and the kisses still meant something?The lacerations, however, scream louder than fantasy.I remember the first time you took me against my will. I remember the searing pain, biting down on the T-shirt you shoved in my mouth to keep me silent. The feeling of blood running down my thighs is something that never leaves me.It started out sweet – you were having one of those good days, where your every touch was just like how it used to be. You'd stripped us of our clothes with care, pressing gentle kisses down my neck and chest. You made it all feel so good, made me question how such pleasurable actions could be caused by such harmful hands.It was when you wrapped the condom around yourself that things went wrong.You'd grabbed my hips and pulled me towards you roughly, surprising me since everything else had been so soft. “Y-Yongguk? Wh-what are you doing?”“What's wrong, baby?” you'd cackled like one of the villains I used to watch on the cartoons. “Sluts like you like it rough.”To emphasize that last word, that last horrid word, you rammed into me with all the force your hips could put forth. I screamed loud enough to knock down buildings, but before much could escape me, you shoved your shirt in my mouth.Wave after wave of bleeding agony hit me like a tsunami. My finger nails dug into your shoulders, scraping into your skin until you bled. You would later punish me for this action, but for now, you seemed completely satisfied with pumping in and out of me like a limp rag doll.Have you ever gotten a burn on your finger? Maybe you accidentally touched the stove when you didn't know it was on, or got curious when you were a child and touched the clothing iron? That tiny little burn always hurts so terribly, to a point where you don't even want to stick it under the water when you shower and try to shove your hand out of the way of the spray.Imagine that, only a million times worse. Imagine that, only a million times worse on your lower regions and all inside of you. Imagine that, only a million times worse on your lower regions and all inside of you, given to you by someone you loved with every particle of your soul.It's not a very fun picture, is it?I remember thinking about how sick it was, hearing your moans and animalistic growls in my ear as you came to completion. I remember looking into your eyes, your brown irises filled with what looked like accomplishment. You'd smirked playfully at me, a smirk that I used to dream about with a smile on my face. A harsh kiss was planted on my lips, as if the bleeding bite marks down my neck weren't enough.Then, it was over. You pulled away from me completely, tore yourself out of me and threw away the condom like yesterday's garbage – like blood wasn't coating the outside of it disgustingly. When you saw the stains of white and red against the sheets, you sneered, “Clean it up. I'm not sleeping on that shit.”Like nothing even happened, you left the room without another word. Just like the first time you hit me, I cried until my chest was tight and it was hard to breathe. I felt violated and filthy, not like how you’re supposed to when you make love for the first time.But, then again, that wasn't making love, was it?No, making love was beautiful and full of passion. It makes you toes curl and your vision turn white. It makes that volcano in your heart erupt with feelings that no one can properly describe, simply because it is too much for words.That, however, was brutal. It left me curling in on myself, naked and dripping with bodily fluids on our soiled sheets, my face a mix of blood, snot, and tears. Nothing felt right or good about this – nothing felt good at all.Cause it was all wrong.I'd learned from previous experience to do as you commanded, no matter how much my bones creaked with protest. So with much effort and my nether regions burning with Hell's fire, I got out of bed and, on a set of trembling legs, I did as told. I changed the sheets and set the ruined ones in the laundry basket. I stumbled into the shower and watched the mixture of red and white go down the drain, along with anything pleasant in my life.That night, I would fall asleep with your arms wrapped safely around me – like the world wasn't crashing and my backside didn't hurt.I remember the first time you told me you loved me, but I must ask – do you? Do you remember that day in the park as clearly as I do? Do you replay it in your head like a movie on repeat and sigh dreamily, like a lovesick school girl? Because I do. All the time.It was so perfect, like a scene straight out of a romance movie. The sun was just beginning to set, the sky turning into a dusty pink and blue color. We crash landed onto the plush grass, our breathing labored – the laughs that escaped our throats weren’t helping us catch our breath either.I'd turned my head towards you, gloating about how I was officially the master of tag, and there was nothing you could do about it. You'd leaned up slightly, lying on your side with your elbow against the floor and your hand supporting your chin. Peering at me with the most beautiful smile, you leaned down and kissed me softly, almost like I would break if you added any kind of pressure. You pulled away only slightly, whispering against my lips, “I love you, Himchan.”Just like that, my eyes were snapping open and my heart was working overtime in my chest. You smirked playfully and kissed me again, saying, “Tag, you're it.”Before I could even respond, you were on your feet and running away from me, that childish smile on your face as your laugh filled the air. I finally came back to my senses after a few seconds and got up after you, a grin that seemed to stretch my face completely plastered to my face.Don't lie; I know you let me catch you. You were running slower than usual and pretending to trip over things so that I could catch up to you faster. I'd rammed right into you and sent us tumbling to the floor, ending with our bodies mushed together. Our noses touched ad I giggled from my place on top of you, kissing you with much enthusiasm.“I love you too, Yongguk,” I'd whispered breathlessly, my hands cupping your cheeks to make sure that this was all real, not just some cruel dream that flaunted what I didn't have. “I love you so much.”Every time you hit me, that's what I think of. I try to picture it in my head, every fine detail right down to what shoes you were wearing. I visualize everything; the way your blonde hair was flying around with the growing wind, the way your teeth shined with that open mouthed grin, the way you felt against my lips when you kissed me. It makes every punch, every claw and every last kick seem so much lighter, like a protective cover is on top of me and taking most of the force out of the blows.I wonder what you think about when you strike me, what thoughts run through your head.Because, honestly, what could you be thinking?Ta-Dah!~

I don't really know if I like the ending... meh

Thoughts? Comments? Witicisms?

Thanks for reading! ^w^