"what the hell is this?"
he asked glaring at her wrists.
she was bare to him.
his thumbs came in to press on her scars a n g r i l y.
he pushed harder
and harder
until she was wincing from pain and falling to his feet,
in a fit of anger, he hadn't realized her
br
oken
ness.
despite the amount of fixing and frustration that he'd put into her
he still was breaking and fracturing her person.
screams and howls echoed as
his nails dug into her layers until
maroon paint was pouring from her imperfections.
"please, stop."
she pleaded as his eyes softened,
he'd let go of his breathing sculpture,
her crumbling at his feet.
she felt like she weighed a ton,
her hands coming up to try and stop her bleeding.
the scent of blood
and the taste of metal as she bit her lip hard enough to sting.
"don't do it again, love."
YOU ARE READING
beautiful
Short Storystory #3 in the 'for the flawed' series. tw | abuse he thought he could fix her he thought he could make her b e a u t i f u l but beauty is in the eye of the beholder. (lowercase intended for stylistic purposes.) © 2015 flawed-
