FORMULA LOVE

Cycle

I've always hated watching women or even men get hurt by those they trusted. I never thought I'd see the day where I'm sat hunched over the breakfast bar. Completely in shock and in so much pain. When his fist conjoined with my stomach it's like his hand had gone straight through me. As I looked at his face when he raised his fist for another hit, I no longer knew this man. This man was not the Owen Dugray I met and started dating, he'd changed. He had pure evil cursing through his veins, his abusive words he shouted at me where like venom. Toxic and corrosive.

When I got home he was already drinking, already in a mood. He owned a pent house in central london, overlooking the Thames. He told me he needed to see me and to come home straight away, which I complied and I was home within 4 hours. It was quite late at night - 10pm, all I wanted was to get into bed and sleep. But I suppose he had other plans.

As soon as I came in I put my best smile on, being careful to make sure I wouldn't stumble or say anything that would annoy him. But he was too quick and as soon as I turned back around from hanging my coat up he was stood behind me. All 6ft of him, immediately I backed away feeling intimidated and claustrophobic. He often had that effect on me, I turn into a hen and he - a fox.

He moved forwards, meeting his eyes with mine before shouting his words at me, "YOU FUCKING WHORE! I TOLD YOU NOT TO SPEAK TO CHARLES AGAIN." His hands gripped onto my wrists down to my sides, to hurt me. He soon continues, "AND WHAT DID YOU DO? YOU FUCKING SPOKE TO HIM YOU FUCKING SLAG."

The waterworks started during his mid sentence, they wouldn't stop falling. I always tried to make them stop and sometimes it would work, but not this time. I shake his hands off of me and runs past him through the door and towards the kitchen. I heard him walking behind me like he just knew he'd catch me. And he was right, he got to me within 2 seconds of when I reached the table. He wasted no time in grabbing my face, spitting god-knows what at me before lifting his other hand and swinging momentum into my stomach.

Pain rings practically out of my ears, I wince in extraordinary pain. Even more tears fall as I let out loud sobs, I don't dare look at him. He was too scary, too unfamiliar. Where's my Dugray gone?

I should've done more to protect myself, I was so stupid on letting him do it over and over again. He must have stopped on the 6th time, he'd become worn out.

I had too but he didn't care.

"If you ever fucking do that again Sadie..." he spits at me, still holding my face firmly, relating to me talking to Leclerc. "Or if you ever even think of leaving me for that matter, I'll kill him. Then your little lover Lando. Then you. GOT IT!"

"YES. YES!" I reply repeatedly as he is right up against my face. I let out numerous cries until he finally lets go of my face and staggers out, tired and drunk. I had just enough vision to see his right knuckles.

They were pure crimson, blood gushing down his arm from where the skin had ripped due to the impact. I had no idea how he'd cover that up, especially considering the press are outside 24/7.

If his knuckles are that bad I wonder how my stomach will be, I thought to myself as I sunk to the floor from my hunched position over the table to leaning against my grey fridge. The tears had mostly stopped now. My makeup was all smudged, I could feel the mascara on my skin, I felt so dirty in that moment. I'd never felt worse in my life. I looked down at my white t-shirt, bloodstains. That's all I saw. There was around 4 different outlines of where the knuckles hit me, most below towards my womb. I touched the red area once I'd lifted my top slightly. As my fingers glazed over the area I immediately took it off again and let out another cry of pain.

                             ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I suddenly woke up. Oh shit I must've dozed off, probably passed out from the pain.

I was laid, sprawled out across the oak wood floor. I was on my back staring up at the ceiling. I glanced at the visibly seeable clock as the light was never turned off last night.

04:00 am

It'd been around 6 hours since the assault happened. I'd been unconscious for that long.

It took me a while but I decided to go and clean myself up in the shower. I avoided the nice master shower in our bedroom, I didn't want him to wake up. So I decided to settle with the small one just left of the kitchen.

I turned the light on and was met with a sink and the mirror above. I knew full well I looked atrocious so there was no need to look at myself, I just quickly unclothed myself and got into the shower. The water was like ice, I shivered intensely the whole shower, but somehow it made me feel cleaner than the normal temperatures of showers did.

I say down in the shower scrubbing hard, all of the makeup travelled down my body to the drain. All of the mascara was gone, I then looked to my stomach. It was dark black already, it was the whole middle of my stomach.

I should've put ice on it. It's my fault.

I got out the shower after spending an hour and probably more in there. I was continuously second guessing myself.

Am I clean enough? No. Do I need to be cleaner? Yes.

And so the cycle continued. Up until now.

I was now stood in front of the mirror as it was like ice unfreezing itself. All of the condensation on the mirror turned to water droplets as it travelled downwards, dripping into the sink. It was a large mirror so I could see my body down to my hips.

I saw my stomach well. It was the first thing that caught my eye. I was correct it was a dark black mark, the middle was like a rotting corpse, whereas, the outside of it was lifelike, healthy.

I'm sure it'll clear up in a few days. Every bruise I'd got in the last few months managed to clear up. Besides I probably deserved them considering the amount of times he had screamed at me and got too mad.

I ignore the rest of that thought and just just stood there, staring at myself. Thinking back to last night. How he's probably sleeping peacefully now and how he'll probs change back to the Owen Dugray I know in the morning.

It's just his cycle, though now I consider it more of  a piece of himself  that he'll always carry. The cycle will never stop.