His Identity

18

"Maybe you should dye your hair red," The familiar man mumbles, his hand reaching out to my head as he pushes a strand of my hair back.

I bite my lower lip. I did not want to dye my hair, I like it the way it is.

"No," I shake my head, hoping he'd drop it, "I don't want to."

He raises his brows and his lips pulled up in a snarl. "I want you to dye your hair red, Aveline."

"I said I-"

"- I heard what you said but listen to me, okay?" He takes a step closer and I don't dare to move, "maybe you'll finally look pretty with your hair dyed red."

I frown at his words, "wait you don't think I'm pretty now?"

"What? No, no I never said that, did I?" he cups my face, bending his head slightly so he could look at me in the eyes, "I just said you'll look prettier with it."

"No, that's not what you said."

"Yes, it is," he sighs, "you're hearing things. Have you been getting enough sleep?"

I nod. Maybe I did hear wrong. Of course he thinks I'm pretty, he loves me. He says it everyday. I need to calm down.

"So, are you dyeing your hair, doll?"

I hate that nickname. Everytime he calls me that, I feel like an object but I don't say anything. He doesn't mean it that way.

"I really don't want to. I like my hair."

He clicks his tongue, his jaw clenches as he fist my hair and but doesn't pull. 'Come on," he presses on, "maybe we should even cut it. Shoulder length, yes?"

"No," I shake my head again, I don't like that idea at all.

"Why are you being so difficult?" He then tugs on my hair harshly making me yelp at the sudden action. Tears brim my eyes at the pain that sot up to my scalp and he instantly lets go of me the second he realises what he did.

He takes a step back and runs a hand through his hair, his eyes shooting daggers at me as if I'm the one at fault. "See what you made me do?" he asks, raising his voice, "this would never have happened had you not been so fucking difficult! Jesus, Aveline-" he takes a deep breath, "you can be so annoying sometimes."

"I'm sorry." The words I've said so many fucking times before leaves my lips as I try not to flinch when he steps forward again. "You should be," he mutters and wraps his arms around me. I stiffen. "Try not to provoke me in the future. I don't wanna hurt you, doll. You know I love you, right?"

I nod against his chest.

I feel on edge, I'm so fucking scared of him sometimes but it's fine.

He loves me. He wouldn't voluntarily hurt me.

I made a mistake. It was my fault.

It always is.

Is this what love feels like?

He might love me but I'm sure that I don't reciprocate his feelings. I feel trapped.

"Well?" His voice reaches my ear again as he squeezes me harder against his chest, "aren't you gonna say it back?"

"I-" he cuts me off with a loud scoff, "you know what?" he pushes me away from him, my body falling straight on the bed behind. I shoot him a confused look, "what did I do?'