Meori Apeuda

Chapter 35

***My dear Reader, here is a reminder concerning my trigger warning: this chapter contains description of violence.
Besides that: Thank you so much that you are here, I truly appreciate it <3***
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He tried to protest, but I reached up and laid my index finger on his lips to shush him. He had to know. He had to hear what kind of monster we were dealing with and why I could never let him get anywhere near that bastard. 

I breathed in consciously and tried to prepare myself mentally to tell my story, which I had only told one other person in its whole extent before in this world.

“I met Brent for the first time in highschool, when I was 17. He was the star of the Rugby Team, handsome, loved by all, coming from a wealthy home. 

I couldn’t believe it, when he asked me for a date. Me. The Outcast, the girl who grew up in a children’s home, bullied by everyone in our school. 

We started to go out, to movies, to restaurants, to prom…the whole highschool love story. 

It seemed like a fairytale. But only a year later I realised that it was no fairytale. He rather was my biggest nightmare.” 

My voice sounded bitter and Chan laid completely still, only continuing to stroke my back, but didn’t interfere. He seemed to feel how hard this was for me and that interrupting me would do no good.

“The bastard chose me for a reason. The reason was that I was alone, no Family, no friends, and that I was completely dependent on him, socially and financially. 

He even gloated to me about it when he was drunk, how carefully he had picked me out. At that time we had already graduated and had rented a maisonette apartment together, sponsored by his father of course. 

It was about that time that he began to hit me. At first it was only slaps to the face. Followed by strings of apologies, that he had no choice, that I had left him no choice. That it wasn’t his fault, that he loved me so much and that shit, but that I sometimes made him so angry with my disobedience and stubbornness. 

The apologies subsided quickly, the punches didn’t. On the contrary, you could say they’ve got company. After a few months I could tick off a quite impressive list: From being pulled through the apartment by my hair, strangulation, kicks to the gut, cigarette burns, cutting with razor blades, whipped until I started bleeding…all of it accompanied by the music of Chicago in the background on endless replay.”

I felt Chan's body tense up beneath me, the hand that had stroked my back was a fist now. ‘And I hadn’t even gotten to the best part yet…!’ I thought sarcastically.

“He quickly learned how he could injure me, without it being too obvious. You could say he became an expert in that. For example, when he used his belt or a whip to give me my “deserved punishment” for whatever I had done wrong in his eyes, he was careful to only hit the middle of my back and hip area, so I could still wear shoulder free dresses and short skirts without showing that he had beaten me black and blue. 

If he couldn’t stop himself and left visible marks on my shoulders or arms or face and someone happened to see it, he always made my clumsiness responsible  for it. ‘Oh you know our dear Kaylee. My little angel wanted to bring me breakfast in bed, slipped and fell down the stairs…Thank God she didn’t hurt herself badly..’ What he of course didn’t mention was that he was the one who kicked me down the stairs, because I made him fried eggs instead of scrambled eggs…”

Chan growled softly, and started to scratch the back of my head soothingly. I could feel the tension in his movement.

I continued my story, my voice monotone and emotionless, as I had detached myself from the memories a long time ago. As if they had happened to a different person and not me. I had heard that it was a common form of dealing with trauma.