Elvis One Shots/Imagines

Santa, Bring My Baby Back to Me Pt 2

A/N : part 2 of @Queen_Addict4life's request! Still TW for domestic abuse. Angst! Also, lol, actually a 3 part series. I just like separating it so it's not too much of a shock to go from one thing to another sooo 3rd part soon!

As Christmas started to roll around, you felt the tension inside your chest build. Christmas Eve. What the hell was going to happen Christmas Eve? Noah hadn't made any comments yet, but you held very little faith that he wouldn't hurt you over suggesting to spend a day of your life with another man. The thought made you queasy.

Eventually he did bring it up over dinner a week before, "I know you wanna go to your parents for Christmas Eve."

You looked at your plate but said feebly, "yes."

"Will Elvis be there?"

"It's tradition."

"Tradition, my ass," Noah spat, chewing aggressively. Then he sighed, "I suppose you've been on good behavior. Might as well reward ya."

You lit up, back straightening and eyes immediately filled with excitement, "really Noah? You mean it?"

"Sure. As long as you promise that fairy stays far away."

The light inside you dimmed just slightly, but you didn't let it show. You just nodded and waited for him to change his mind, but he didn't. He shoveled the rest of his dinner then awkwardly caressed your knee beneath the table but you paid his ministrations no mind, your thoughts entirely on Christmas Eve and finally getting to do something normal.

On the 23rd, you came into his living room with a little smile on your lips as you thought about the next day and all it would bring. Noah had had a few drinks, and upon seeing you he frowned, "what's got you smiling like that?"

"I'm excited for Christmas."

He scoffed, drinking more of his cheap beer, "I don't wanna do that no more."

You looked to him with worry, "what? Noah you said-"

"You's just gonna make a cuck outta me," he said with a slur.

"He's just a friend-"

"And I'm a fucking monkey's uncle!" Noah shouted, standing up quickly and throwing his bottle to the ground. It shattered all over the floor, little bits getting into your feet and you gasped from the shock of it all. But he didn't give you a moment to think, a moment to process what he did, he just came right over to you and brought his hands round his throat like he'd done all those times before. You closed your eyes and prayed for it to be over as he squeezed just slightly, enough to make you cough against him.

"Look at me, bitch!" When you refused he squeezed tighter, "Look. At. Me."

Through dark lashes, you looked up and dared to make eye contact with the monster whose hands wrung your neck. You sputtered, moved under his grip, but never once did you stop looking at him. It was your little revenge, even as he squeezed tight enough to leave purple fingerprints along your flesh. Maybe he got bored of you, maybe you weren't reacting exciting enough, or maybe you weren't dying quick enough, but whatever it was, he let go and let you fall to the couch as he stalked away. You held your neck in your hands, containing your wails. Internally you hoped that what really made him drop you wasn't boredom, but that he realized he'd never fully break you. Your eyes would haunt him even in his moments of peace.

When you woke up the next day, Noah was pressing open mouth kisses along the length of your bruised neck. You winced at the pain and for once he seemed to listen. You went to the bathroom and saw the large purple imprints of hands, deep and shiny on your skin. It didn't matter what color we were, the bruises of pain looked the same. Even your heaviest concealer wouldn't cover that.