The Me You Can't See (H.S)

54

TW: Physical Abuse

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Haven's POV:

I let the water envelope my face, covering my eyes and muffling the sound of the world around me as it surrounds me

This was not how I expected tonight to go and despite how good it started out, nothing could have prepared me for the turn tonight would take.

I knew he would never hit me the same way I know that the thought never even crossed his mind. But there was a time where I thought the same thing of my father. So can you really blame me? We don't surround ourselves with people we think will hurt us, we surround ourselves with people who hide that they will so well that we never see it coming.

And hid it you did.

But regardless of what I thought he was going to do I had no right to slap him. I had no right to put my hands on him no matter who he reminded me of in the moment. I got scared and my hands moved faster than my mind did and even though we both needed the space, I wish I could apologize to him right now.

I sit here until the water turns cold and I'm left shivering from my thoughts just as much as I am from the temperature of the water. Thinking back I hate how everything unfolded and the glimpses of him I saw.

For a split second I saw a part of him I didn't recognize. I saw a glimpse of Malcolm in him and it terrified me. But it didn't last long and I watched as realization flashed across his remorseful eyes and I could finally breathe again.

My eyes burn from the tears I've consistently held back and my head pounds as I dry myself off only to change into a clean pair of panties and a large sweater.

I waited for him to come back with a cigarette between my lips and a glass of whiskey between my feet. I waited and waited and yet he didn't come. There were no knocks on the door, no missed phone calls, no familiar sounds of a key as it fit in a lock. . . nothing.

I forced myself to stay awake like I do so many nights, and smoked one cigarette after the other only to be met with yet again the deafening sound of silence.

Silence. I used to love silence, yearned for the comfort of hearing absolutely nothing. But now I loathe it. I loathe anything that's not the sound of his sweat laughter, or the way his words cling to my ears as I wait eagerly for what he has to say.

I could sit in silence, but I couldn't also sit in darkness. So when the sun no longer lit up the sky I didn't have it in me to do it as well.

He has a key and he can use it or not. So climbing into my cold and empty bed I pull the covers over my eyes and pray that this night will be better than the last.

And sooner that I thought, the silence and darkness molded into one until I've drifted off into a state of nothingness where I can only hope I get to stay.

***

The smell is the first thing I notice, specifically the smell of alcohol. He always drank before he hit me and the familiar smell of bourbon engulfs me in a cloud of inevitable pain. I always smell it first but his hands soon follow.

"Please don't daddy. It's hurts." I whimper. "I didn't mean to break it. The plate just slipped from my hands." I plead with him, my bruised lip wobbling.

"Then you shouldn't have dropped it." he slurs taking off his belt and folding it in half.

I can't feel the whip just looking at it and I try my very best not to cry. Daddy doesn't like it when I cry, it just makes him more mad.