A Pure Love- Gjon's Tears Fanfic

Chapter 4

The night after my almost-run-in with Luco, after going to sleep, was full of terrible flashbacks to my time with him. They were my nightmares, also including a scary what-if scenario about if he saw me yesterday at the shop. Especially since I was with another man (just my friend). Every little thing set him off, and he always had a reason to make unnecessary and hurtful comments about every little thing.

"You don't get it, Marla!" he yelled one day a couple years ago when I was about to spend the day with Rosalee. "How do I know that I can trust you?"
"I'll make sure you can," I responded. "I'm just spending the day with my friend. Why is that such a bother to you?"
"Because there's gonna be other guys around who can't control themselves! It's just in their nature!" Luco's voice pretty much shattered the room at that moment. I got so confused- why would he ever think I'd cheat? He knew I'm not attracted to girls like that, but he must have thought that I was going to make out with Rosalee at the movie theater. All we were going to do was go out to lunch before work at the bookstore.
I couldn't say a word. I just stood there trying to hide that I was hurt at his assumption. Can't control themselves? I know plenty of good men who are able to control themselves around women, especially those like me. Would some man try to snatch me up while I'm at work? Hell no. Looking back, Luco would have blamed me if that had happened. But he somehow still convinced me that it would be my fault and even convinced me to cancel the plans and call in sick to work that day (which I had never done before or ever again after that).

Another time, I came home from work slightly late with a birthday gift for him. He loved art and being creative, which was what lured me in to him in the first place. So, I bought him a much-needed new set of large canvases, high-quality paints, and brushes. He had said again and again closer to when the time came that he did need new supplies. So, I got them for him. And he got angry at me for that:
"This isn't what I wanted, Marla! You should know me better than that."
The suddenly shocked look on my face turned red, yet I kept my composure. "You've been saying for so long that you've needed new art supplies. I thought you would have loved it."
"I expected more from you," he seemed so calm, but something in his eyes were cold and calculating. As if he was planning something darker. But that all changed just seconds later when he continued: "you don't love me!"
"Yes I do, Luco! I love you so much and tried to do something nice for you. I got you exactly what you asked for, and you act like this?"
"I wouldn't be acting like this if you had put a little more effort into me."
"Can you please appreciate the fact that I tried? It's not about the gift. It's the effort put into it. The effort put into us. I'm doing anything and everything I can to make you happy, always. But you always find a way to belittle and criticize me for the littlest things! If it bothers you that much why not just leave me?"
He had no answer. So all he did was go to the bedroom, leaving the couch for me. Our next and last really big fight was in the middle of 2020, when I left him and moved back in with my parents because he had turned to violence. By fight, I mean him just yelling while I stood next to the couch and submitted. That first time he hit me was also the last time he hit me. I had left him right after he left for work that day, leaving only a note.

I woke up from the nightmare flashbacks with a pounding heart, heavy breathing, headaches, and nausea. Then I felt physically sick to be reminded of that. I should have known all along that he wouldn't actually kill himself over me leaving him. I should have never been so stupid to be scared of that. But maybe it's not that. Maybe it's that he lied to me all this time. He didn't kill himself- he stayed alive but never left his house? Or maybe I was just lucky enough to never bump into him until yesterday.
My alarm clock said it was four a.m. Three hours before I actually have to get up to get ready for work. But instead of going back to sleep when I dragged my feet back to my room, I checked my phone, which had funnily enough lit up with notifications galore. One text from a number I didn't recognize: "Luco will find your way back to you. He has lived his life and realized he cannot do it without you. You will regret what you did to him, and you deserved to be hit that night. He saw you in the coffee shop yesterday, by the way and you ignored him. Classic you, never listening to anybody. If you would have given him a chance he would have never hidden away or hit you ever again. Marla Favre, watch your back. The next time he sees you, he will bring hell onto you like you deserve."
I felt like throwing up again. So I did, ending the vomit spree with some tears. After I knew the vomiting was over, my heart kept pounding and my breathing stayed heavy. I had no words, though. Not even when Rosalee walked up to me just as I was leaving the bathroom and followed me to my bedroom, slowly walking me to bed with her arm linked around mine. "You'll be okay, Marlee. Please sleep in and I'll call in sick for you."
I took a deep breath in and out and said, "thanks." She didn't even need an explanation; this was normal for us before when I was just a few days and weeks after my escape.

I couldn't even sleep in because that nightmare and mysterious text message kept me up all morning. Scared for my life, but too frozen up in my bed to do anything about it. I just lay there, my eyes staring at the dark ceiling, after tossing and turning for about two more hours. Through the extra three hours after of staring at the ceiling and Rosalee letting me know she called me in sick, it hit me: I had to tell Gjon everything now so I can truly feel more safe from Luco.
There's no way I can go through now with my best friend never knowing a thing. So I called him up to tell him about the nightmare, the sickness, and the scary text. I didn't cry, but I sounded pretty desperate. I did not tell one lie, but I did say this: "I don't know how this can be helped. I'm sorry. I don't know what to do."
"I can come over if you need, Marlee. I can just be there with you. If you need a distraction or to talk. What time should I be there?"
"Whenever you can."
"I can be ready and on my way now."
"Thank you, I'll see you soon."
"You too, Marlee."
Then I hung up and finally managed to make my way from my bed to the couch.