Vince

chapter 4

Trigger Warning: This chapter contains domestic violence. If this topic triggers you or you don't feel comfortable with reading about it, please skip this chapter🤍

Amaya POV

I woke up from the sound of something falling to the ground. I couldn't detect what It was, since the sound appeared to be so far away.

Fuck that man.

I rolled out of bed, took a big stretch on my way out and walked out of the bedroom. It was already dark outside.

„Vince! What the fuck are you- Nick?", I fell silent looking at my partner leaning against the kitchen counter. A look on the floor revealed a broken glass, laying there in pieces.

„Nick what happened?"

Silence.

The following minute felt like an hour. I was overwhelmed with the situation, scared to move I just stood there, waiting for him to make any kind of sound...to move...to do anything.

I felt so uneasy. I just wanted to go home, but I was home. With the one who was supposed to make me feel safe, who now, once again, was the reason I feared for my life.

The silence stretched out until he suddenly turned around and threw everything on the counter to the floor; „YOU CAN NEVER SHUT. UP, CAN'T YOU?!"

This wasn't the first time he screamed at me. Recently it came up more than before, but he was just stressed about something at work, at least that was what I told myself.

I found another excuse for him every single time. „I'm sorry", I said with a shaking voice. I could barely hear myself and obviously he couldn't neither because moments later he stood in front of me and grabbed my face with his hand.

„What did you say?", I couldn't even recognize Nicks Voice. The man in front of me scared me, every time his chest rose a piece of my heart seemed to crack.

His hand burned on my skin. It felt like it was scratching into the layers of my face. Just then he squeezed my cheeks together, with a brutality I knew way too well.

That was when he spit into my face.
„I asked you WHAT YOU SAID!", he screamed again.

I felt disgusting and pathetic. His spit crawled down my face leaving a feeling I could never describe. It was unbelievable how he could be loving and caring in one moment and like...this..in the next.

Work is just frustrating him, work is just frustrating him, work is just- I kept repeating the sentence like a mantra to calm myself down.

My eyes were glued to the floor as a breathless; „I said that I am sorry." stumbled over my lips. Nicks thumb stroked my face, followed the path where his spit had ran down. A sight; „Wash your face and clean that up."

That was when he turned around and left me alone with the storm of feelings and disappointment. He promised it wouldn't happen again.. I believed him it wouldn't happen again.

***

I looked pathetic; smeared mascara, red eyes and his hand print on my face. I barely wanted to look in the mirror knowing I'd clean up after him, but I had to cover up the remains of his "emotions".

This wasn't the first time. Not even close to the first time. The first time he had a "moment" like this was a month after we moved in together, soon after I understood that it would happen unexpectedly and I could never prepare for that.

I was over the question why I didn't leave. I knew why I didn't, because he didn't hit me the first time, or the second. He never did. And I kept telling myself that this would be the line he couldn't cross.

That I'd leave if he'd ever do it, but deep down I didn't believe me..because I was still here. I should've left as he raised his voice the first time, as he started throwing things, the first time he pressed me against the door or on our bed..

I feared the day he would hit me, more than anything else. Not just because of the obvious, but also because I was scared to witness myself staying with him.