Violaceous

Thinking. Jane just couldn't stop thinking. She knew he hadn't changed—they never did. Gazing out of the pristine, clean window, she found herself looking at the ancient, oak tree, studying its emerald-green leaves securely held on by the sturdy, stable, branches. She always found comfort in the tree, her home, the way the leaves shielded her from the outside, the patterns the bark made on the tree, distracting her from her problems--her thoughts. Grabbing her worn out, long, brown coat she made her way to her home. Walking out, she noticed that the once warm spring breeze had suddenly turned chilly, indicating the gelidity of the coming night. Her long auburn hair blew behind her as she reached her final destination.
Taking her rightful place next to the tree, she reminisced on her past with him, softly tracing the most recent hidden bruises and cuts on her arm.
Did she make the right choice? The choice to leave everything behind? To leave him behind? All the memories? If it was the 'right choice', then why did she find herself regretting it?
'Maybe, if I go back, it'll be better. Maybe he's a changed man! After all, he surely didn't mean to hurt me... right?' She thought wistfully.
Jane sighed deeply as she softly shook her head. "What would you do?" She questioned the tree. The cool wind blew, as the viridescent leaves rustled softly, answering her queries. Jane looked down, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes as she remembered that day, the first day. The day it all went to hell.
***
It was a day like today, the sun was shining, the birds were singing their soft tune. Just a normal Tueday afternoon. Everything was as it should been. They'd walked together, they'd worked together, but something was off.
He was off.
He had been 'off' for a while now. Maybe a month or so. Jane had asked him what was wrong, but he'd always just snap at her.
"Jesus Jane! I'm fine, just leave me the hell alone! Stupid cow! Who the fuck do you think you are?! My mother?!" He snarled at her, his muscular body heaving as if he had just ran a marathon, his eyes filled with rage as he looked at her disdainfully.
"Can't a man ever have a moment of peace? Here I am, relaxing after a hard day's work, and you come over, just BEGGING for attention. Or a fight! For God's sakes Jane!" He spat at her, eyes filled with disgust as he looked at her up and down, like she was a stray dog, to be kicked or petted at the whims of its master.
Without even looking back, he roughly shoved past her, knocking her shoulder; causing Jane to stumble violently into the fence, the exposed, rusty nails, ripping into the flesh of her arm, the blood gently trickling down to the palm of her hand. She trembled as he had stomped away, softly nursing the wound on her arm where she'd hit the fence. Tears streamed down her cheeks. She stood in disbelief; paralyised with shock and fear. He'd never yelled at her, in such an abusive and hateful manner, before, let alone pushed her.
Later that evening, Jane had found a letter from him.
'My dearest Jane,
Jane, I'm sorry for my little outburst earlier today.
I promise you, that it will never happen again. I was just having a hard time with all the work recently and took it out on you.
I never meant to yell at you Jane, but you really shouldn't have involved yourself with my own personal matters. You can't understand what hard work we men do around here, and how taxing it can be.
That being said, shouldn't have yelled at you. My bad, Jane.
Let me make it up to you tomorrow.
-          Love, Marc.'
Jane sighed as she read the letter. 'Of course he didn't mean to yell at me! He was just tired!' She thought happily knowing that he wasn't mad at her.
Everything would be alright after all!
Or so she thought.
***
Things only got worse from there. Marcs outbursts became more frequent. Taking out his anger on her, shoving her out of the way when he'd finished his tantrums. And always, after every outburst, he promised not to let it happen again, that he'd 'change' become the man she deserved.
But it stayed the same, no changes were made.
Jane always asked for advice from her small circle of friends. They'd tell her that 'this relationship was nothing but abuse and broken promises'. Telling her to 'just leave already, become a free woman again'.
After six months, she finally took the advice.
She had felt free. Happy to be out of the relationship, but she still had her doubts about leaving. Marc... she thought of his comforting strength, as he used to hold her. The laughter that they'd shared, finding silliness in the smallest of things. But most of all, she remembered how he'd loved her.
No one had made her feel as special as he had.
It was like somebody had finally seen her.
In a way he was right, she was too needy and she was too insecure. Maybe if she hadn't been, they'd still be happy.
And after all, he'd never actually HIT her.
But...
***
Which is why she was here, at the tree, her home, in the first place. Confiding her worries and doubts to the ancient being.  She sighed sorrowfully as she looked at her trusted, beloved tree, but it could not make the decision for her, just give her the comforing whisper of the wind through its branches and enduring strength. She hadn't even noticed how much time had passed, and yet, she was still no closer to making a decison; even though she knew what that decision would be.
Jane reluctantly got up from her sanctuary on the fresh, green, grass that surrounded the tree and lovingly carressed the bark, bidding her tree farewell.
The shadows had  lenghtened;  and the afternoon had morphed into evening. In the distance, she saw his familiar figure at the end of the long, gravelly driveway;  roses in his hand.
She walked along the dewey grass, to the driveway. To her left, he waited. To her right the driveway led home.
As the sun set, its firery orange and red hues fading into the violaceous twilight; she made her choice.