PULSE [H.S]

019

"The first step towards getting somewhere is to decide that you are not going to stay where you are." — J.P. Morgan

Emptiness.

That's what I feel.

I feel stupid, and I'm so ashamed of myself for ever letting this happen. I should have been smarter than this, or stronger than this. There were so many signs. So many moments that should have been the end of it.

I haven't even been able to sit up since I woke up today. My body is in so much pain. I've never felt pain like this before.

Harry knocks on the door and comes in with some ice packs, a glass of water, and some painkillers. The ice feels good on my ribs, giving me a little relief. I take two of the painkillers and hope that they'll help too.

It's embarrassing that he saw this happen. He even saw the signs, but I didn't want to listen to him. I was too ashamed to even admit what was going on in my relationship, and my pride almost cost me everything.

"Has it been this bad before?" Harry asks.

When I look at him, his face is full of concern, and maybe a hint of sadness. He barely knows me, and he just went through all of that trouble to help me. Even if he's done bad things, part of him is good. I can trust that.

I say, "Never like this."

"What made him do this?"

I look away from him, blinking away tears. I'm so sick of crying, my eyes already feel swollen from all of the tears I shed yesterday.

I can't tell him it started because of the lock that he had installed. He'd just blame himself even more. And if it wasn't the lock, it would've been something else.

"Nothing."

"Do you want me to make you anything to eat? Or I could run out if you want anything specific," he offers.

I want to give him a hug.

"No," I say. "Thank you, though. Can you help me to the shower? I just feel gross."

He helps me get out of bed and then to the bathroom, which makes me curse a few times, and I think I was gripping him so hard that he might have a few bruises of his own now.

He brings me some of his clothes to put on afterwards and says that he'll be around, so if I need anything, I can just call for him.

When he leaves, I have absolutely no idea how I'm going to manage to do this by myself. I debate calling out and asking him for help, but I'd rather die trying to shower than let him help me do it.

After struggling to get my clothes off, it's obvious that a full standing shower is not going to happen. I get myself in the tub, but I just sit under the water for a while. I managed to clean myself off eventually, but it cost me a dozen tears.

It's even more exhausting drying myself off and putting clothes back on. By the time I make it back to bed, I'm so exhausted. I fall asleep, not even bothering to get under the covers.

-

The next day, I only left the bed twice to pee. I spend most of the day sleeping, crying, or thinking about how much I hate myself. Harry checks on me a few times, bringing me soup at some point, but he mostly just leaves me alone and lets me sleep.

On the third day, I am sick of being stuck in this bed.

I walk into the bathroom, nearly jumping when I look at my appearance. My cheek is bruised, and my lip has a disgusting scab on it. There's still marks on my neck and my arms. I don't even risk lifting up my shirt. I don't think I have the stomach for it right now.