Finding Herself

The Lies You Told

*Trigger Warning: Domestic Abuse*

"Pull over, let me drive the rest of the way." Rylan said when I yawned, again. The yawn pulled at the aching muscles in my cheek. I risked a glance his way on the straight away and was met by a raised eyebrow. I shook my head once. On the outside, it was a kind gesture.

By this point, I knew it was quite possibly a ruse for me to give up any kind of control I had left over the situation.

"I'll be okay," I told him, my fingers curling tightly around the steering wheel as I refocused on the road, squinting through the light rain that fell around us in the night. I didn't dare look back at him again, at the exasperated sigh he huffed out. I knew better.

The first six or so months of our relationship had been what anyone on the outside would see as perfect. Rylan and I had so much in common, we clicked immediately, and started going steady within the first two weeks. I adored him, and he seemed to feel the same way for me. Until one day, his true colors showed through, and I was left with bruises across my ribs and a busted nose.

I told my friends and my coworkers that I had run into a door that said pull instead of push. Which, knowing me, was completely, entirely, 100% believable. I wished that had been the truth of it. The truth, well that hurt so much more. Which was why I bared it alone.

You know that thing that they say about abusive relationships? It's what everyone on the outside always says. "If that happened to me even once, I would be gone in a heartbeat."

But that's the thing. The master manipulators, they are good at their game. They are so apologetic, they almost get you thinking, 'man, maybe I deserved that.' Or, they tell you it will never happen again, and then, so much time passes that you fall back into that sense of security with them. You start to believe them again.

That was what had happened with me tonight. I let my guard down again. This time, I knew it was no fault of my own, though. What I was wearing was entirely appropriate; a short sleeved, knee length dress, cute wedges, and a sparkly black sweater that was just enough in case I got cold during dinner or the movie.

I'd gotten warm. That was the beginning of the downfall of the evening. I shrugged out of the sweater at dinner and draped it over the back of my chair, but when I turned back to meet his gaze, it was furious.

"What?" I'd asked casually, forcing a smile. I knew immediately he was angry, at the cold glint in his eyes when he forced a smile of his own- more like a snarl, to be honest- back in my direction.

He raised a brow then, just like he always does, just like he would during the ride home, questioning my motives. "Who are you trying to show off for, Char?"

My mistake, was no mistake on its own. I always had a fiery attitude to offer. Rylan knew this before we had even officially met. That day in the university library, he had seen my no-nonsense first hand when I had lost my cool with another student who was chattering on her phone, disrupting my studies. Then, he had said it was 'endearing'. Now, I knew that to mean 'a spirit for me to break'.

My mistake was a response of, "I'm hot, nothing more and nothing less, Ry." A two for one cheap shot. He hated the 'disrespect', and on top of that, he hated being called Ry. He said it made him sound like a child.

Which, I suppose was fitting, because since he told me, I'd only addressed him as Ry when he was acting childish. Now for example. Which was only stirring the pot.

Teeth grated. "Yeah Char, you're hot as hell. I bet the bar tender notices and gives you a free drink. Wouldn't that be nice?" He all but spat the words under his breath.