Unholy Marriage || minchan

25. Rising from the Ashes

Minho

"It was always small things at first," I began, my voice barely above a whisper.

"He'd make little comments about my clothes, my friends, even the way I laughed. At first, I thought he was just trying to help me be a better version of myself."

"Black looks awful on you. Maybe that's why you seem to worsen the school uniform by simply wearing it." He stated with a serious expression but his best friend laughed. "Not that he'd look good in anything." Another one of his friends commented while making a goal in the football field.

I paused, swallowing hard, my throat tightening with the memory. "But then it got worse."

I took a deep breath, steeling myself to continue.

"It all started in high school. I always wanted to try new things. So I tried hooking up with a boy. A senior of mine. I had my first boyfriend ever."

I took out a shaky breath and continued while he remained silent being a good listener.

"At first, he was charming and attentive. He made me feel special, like I was the only person in the world who mattered. We even started living together.

I'm not denying that he was my first love. But things started to change, slowly at first, so gradually that I almost didn't notice."

- "I don't think that best friend of yours is a good company. Take my advice, darling. Don't stay with him." -

"The first time he hit me, I was in shock. We had an argument over something so small, and before I knew it, his hand was across my face. I remember the sting, the way my cheek burned, but what hurt more was the realization that this was the man I loved."

- "Shut up, you whore! You think you have the right to question me?" He said grabbing the boy's collar and spitting his words into the other's face. -

My eyes lifted briefly, meeting the gaze of my listener before darting away again.

"And it didn't stop there. He became more violent, more unpredictable.

There were times when he'd come home drunk, reeking of alcohol and anger. He'd yell, throw things, break whatever he could get his hands on.

Sometimes even throwing the furniture at me, for example the wooden chair. I fractured my arm, once."

- "So what? You are useless anyway. One fracture won't do harm. Can't even take that from me, my love?" He said with a sadistic smile.

"Let me tell you something, baby. You take everything I give you, without complains. Understood?" He said caressing the other's head possessively. -

My voice wavered as I managed to continued, "One night, I tried to stand up for myself. I told him he couldn't treat me like that. I thought maybe, just maybe, I could make him see what he was doing. But that only made him angrier."

I rolled up my sleeve till my shoulder, revealing few, faded and small, round scars on my forearm.

"He had a cigarette in his hand. I remember the look in his eyes, the cold, detached way he stared at me as he pressed it into my skin.

The pain was excruciating, but it was nothing compared to the feeling of utter helplessness. It wasn't once, it happened often. More often than I expected." I rolled down my sleeve again.

-"Remember these marks, sunshine. A reminder of who owns you. Wear them proudly." -

"That's why you hate people who smoke?" He spoke softly as I nodded.