No Matter What
By: Jodie
Word count: 625
Warnings: graphic descriptions and mentions of abuse. Also, it sucks
Note: as requested by @jordison_99 (Bon/Ang)
At first, it wasn't too bad. He'd go out and get drunk, come home sloshed and immediately collapse into bed, sometimes mumbling something incoherently.
Then, something changed. He'd go out and get drunk, come home sloshed and he'd yell at me, call me worthless, ugly, accuse me of cheating, point out my flaws and go to bed. He'd wake up the next morning, apologizing profusely, buying me flowers, gifts, cards...
After that, he'd come home, drunk again, this time not only threatening physical abuse, but also carrying those threats out. It started out with slaps. I'd stay silent, holding in tears and cries of pain. I hoped it would pass.
The cycle repeated once more. He'd wake up, see my red face and eyes full of fear and he'd cry, apologise and promise he'd change.
He didn't.
It got worse when he came home barely even tipsy. He knew what he was doing yet he made no effort to stop. He'd get creative. Slaps, kicks, punches, cigarettes, belts...
Waking up the next day, he'd laugh at my bruises, cuts and burns. He'd throw in a few 'Good morning, darling' slaps, maybe a few insults and go about his normal day, working, watching TV, talking to friends. I began to hide away. I drifted away from my own friends, afraid of being accused of cheating on him. I lived in fear.
I couldn't tell anyone, not even my brother. I went out one day while he was at work and bought concealer, desperate to hide the evidence. I wasn't happy living like this but I truly believed he would change.
When he reached for the kettle one evening, I decided I'd had enough. I shot up from where I was cowering in the corner, and, with a surge of adrenalin, I swung my fist at his face. He staggered back, dazed, and I pushed the kettle away from where it landed, on the ground, reaching for a knife on the counter.
"Get away from me, Bon." I told him, voice wavering. Fear and betrayal flashed through his eyes briefly before he laughed, twisting me around in one quick motion and taking the knife from me, instead putting it to my neck. My breath hitched and time seemed to slow down. It was only when a tear rolled off my face and landed on his wrist that he dropped the knife, let go of me and backed away, shaking his head. Something snapped in him.
"What have I done?" he kept repeating. I fell to the ground, shaking, as I scrambled backwards, leaning against a wall. He started sobbing, staring at the knife. "Ang, oh my God, Ang. Are you okay?" Bon asked, putting a hand to his mouth as he studied my face. I'm sure I was pale, tears running down my face, fear obvious in my eyes.
"Get... Get out." I whispered, pointing at the door. "Get out and don't come back." He nodded, obliging. The door slammed behind him and I crawled over, locking it before I collapsed onto the ground and cried until I couldn't anymore.
--- --- ---
I woke up in my own bed and I saw a note next to me.
I'm really fucking sorry, Angus. I am so so so goddamn sorry. I know you can't forgive me which is why I've packed my bags and left. It's better this way.
I sighed shakily, coming to the realisation that I loved him no matter what he did. I'd find him, beg him to return and it would happen again because he doesn't change, and neither do I.
