Her Own Rules

ONE

Sensing the hand flying her way makes her tightly shut her eyes and lock up her whole body as if steeling herself physically would ever change the way her heart faded away little by little every time he raised a finger to hurt her. The sting that followed the flesh of his hand hitting the flesh of her cheek, was nothing compared to the debilitating pain coming from her chest. Blood made its way down her chin making her split lip from a couple days ago re-open with a stab that made her wince.

"I saw you Natasha." His voice held so much rage, she sometimes wondered if maybe she did make a mistake this time. But deep down she knew, no matter how small her "mistakes" were, a greater punishment by him was what he thought was necessary.

Her voice was weak when she whispered, "saw me what?" Having no emotion or inflection in her tone was the only way she learned she could speak to him without breaking one of his many rules about how she was supposed to act. Who she could talk to. Who she could look at.

"Don't play dumb." He took another step closer to her trembling form, another step and his chest would be touching hers.

She could feel the heat in his words, she needed to calm him down before he started whipping her like last time. Last time was bad. Really bad. She couldn't get out of bed for 3 days. She didn't want that again.

"I'm sorry baby. Whatever I did, I'm sorry." Her voice hardened just a tad, something that hopefully got across to him, but didn't get the belt across her back. "I love you so much, you know I would do nothing to hurt you. I am truly sorry."

The words turned to ash on her tongue, enough that she had to swallow hard to even keep her voice steady saying she loved him. Those words stopped having meaning when he first raised his fist to her face. His blue eyes had taken a darker shade hours before when they got home from their traditional date that happened once a week. He insisted when she couldn't seem to leave the bed for days at a time. There was nothing physically stopping her, it was her mind that seemed to be weakening.

Rough hands cupped her inflamed cheeks, so unexpectedly a flinch escaped her body. He didn't notice. He never did. "I know, I know. You just make me do crazy stuff sweetheart, all these men giving you these fuck me eyes and you gobble it up all the fucking time."

She silently watched his inner turmoil as he repeated his delusional scenario over in his head, but whenever he spoke it out loud it was as if she was agreeing to what he thought had happened. That crazed look returned in his eyes, before she could blink his hands on her cheeks started squeezing unbearably hard. Heart beating faster, her eyes widened as his face held no emotion. It was always worse when she couldn't see he was angry anymore.

"You're hurting me baby." She tried to keep her voice calm and steady, but she knew her body started trembling so badly she heard her teeth chatter, he could tell she was scared. It was bad when the predator could smell the fear wafting from its prey.

Grabbing at his white knuckled hands squeezing her face so hard she knew her jaw would hold bruises the next day. Trying to push away his hands made him yell, "I know you're cheating on me Natasha! Everyone told me you were a fucking slut but I didn't beleive them, now I know the truth. You are a slut!"

The words stung both her heart and her watering eyes. She didn't want to cry in front of him, but she couldn't seem to stop the tears from falling. His hands then positioned themselves around her neck, he slowly applied pressure until she could only take quick fast breaths that did nothing to stop the panic from seeping through her veins.

"Please stop." Her words fell on deaf ears as he backed her up into the kitchen, pressing her back into the sharp corner of the countertop. She didn't feel the pain when she started to have to gasp for air, begging wouldn't do shit, she learned that from last time. And trying to fight against him only made her punishments more severe.

White spots started to appear behind her eyes, to the point she suddenly felt tired and just wanted to sleep. Blinking hard to keep her eyes open, kept the spots away but only for a couple of seconds, then they continued their assault.

His fingers slowly loosened enough that it kept the spots at bay, and her breathing wasn't as labored. Not having heard what had brought him into the kitchen, since she had been hyperfocused on not passing out and leaving her limp body at his mercy, she now noticed what he held in his hand, the one that didn't have a death grip on her windpipe.

"I didn't want to do this before, because I thought you would change your ways, but I now know what will stop your compulsive desires.'' His voice held a clinical tone that made her heart beat erratically. His nonchalance had her face paling in fear, going a few shades lighter. Her hands started sweating as she tried pulling his hand away from around her neck.

"This is the only way Natasha." his voice held no remorse for what he was about to do. No guilt. No shame. No doubt. Only cold determination.

The grip on the sharp knife's rubber handle re-adjusted as she started to physically push away from him. Smacking, punching, scratching to get away from this inevitable. But nothing worked, if anything it only made his temper return with a vengeance.

"Stop fucking moving!" He screamed close to her face, so loud and harsh spit splattered onto her fear-stricken face. "Hold still if you want to keep your eye."

Hyperventilating came at the worst possible time, as he lowered the knife onto her unblemished skin. Pain like nothing she ever experienced before evoked an ear-splitting scream as he dragged the knife further down her face. Red trickled in warm streams, coating her clothes, dipping down her bruised cheek and in between the seams of her busted mouth.

"Shh, shh, shh." He kept repeating it as he continued slicing into her flesh. Far enough into her tissue that it would scar, but not enough to damage the nerves lining the upper left side of her face. Blood ran into her eyes, so much that blinking it away did nothing to get it cleared. Being blinded she angrily shouted,

"Fuck you!" The words held so much rage, rage she never felt before. She felt as if she could kill him. She wished she had enough strength to do it.

Getting him upset again probably wasn't the best idea when he was holding a fucking knife to her face, but she dind't care. Didn't care he was giving her a scar for life because he thought she was flirting with other men. Didn't even care if he slit her throat right then and there. Crying red streaks of blood was enough for her to realize she didn't care if he lived or died anymore.

So much so she didn't even care if she was the one to end his so-called life. She couldn't help but smile through the red, even when it pulled her flesh further away from itself even when she tasted the blood that coated her teeth. She kept on smiling even when he head-butted her to knock her unconscious, almost as if he was scared of that look etched into her bloodied features.