Songs [BANG CHAN ONE-SHOTS]

Cover Me ❤️‍🩹

TW: domestic violence ⚠️

Written in 1st person POV

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Working as a nurse practitioner had good and bad sides and I had good and bad days... And any working adult would say the same for their job.

Helping and saving people was always my call, I knew it from a young age. I didn't want to be a superhero from an action movie, I just wanted to help as much to my abilities, using all the knowledge I honed through years of studying and residency.

But even though I helped and saved many... when one cannot help themselves, it's the worst feeling in the world.

I loved my job and came to love it even more in the past two years... ever since I moved in with my boyfriend. Long shifts were a blessing, I didn't complain whenever the head nurse gave me a double shift through the day or even the night ones because it meant I was spending all of my time out of the cramped apartment I shared with an unemployed and angry man.

When we started dating, my once sweet and loving boyfriend was one of the managers, working for a big firm. But when an incident at work happened and he was reported by a junior for physical assault, I knew something was off yet I deliberately ignored the first and biggest red flag. The red was so intense it made my head spin, blurring my vision... literally.

I should've left, I know. I didn't need the people around me telling me that. Because once a man raises his hand on a woman, he won't hesitate to do it again.

That night I saw red. It was a week after he got fired. He shouted so loud yet none of the neighbors reported it... even after seeing a cut on my forehead where I hit my head, the blood gushing out in streams and disrupting my eyesight.

He apologized endlessly at the sight of blood, pulled me in his arms, and soothed me for the rest of the night but I couldn't stop the trembling of my limbs, shortness of breath, and cold sweat that peppered my skin. He begged me not to call the police or ambulance, I had to make up lies and cover them with a bright smile, even though my heart was beating an unsteady rhythm for days.

The second strike happened a week later when my ear rang and my cheek ached as to how hard he slapped me. And the pattern was the same - outrage, hit, panic, begging, and soothing.

That same pattern continued and became more frequent over time. It's been a year since his first outburst but the memory remained fresh in my mind, so fresh and intense that the scar on my forehead would sting as I replayed the event.

He didn't get another job opportunity since and my anxiety only got worse over time as I feared that any wrong statement could set him off as if I was living with a ticking bomb and waiting for it to explode on me.

I should've left. I should've reported him. But I couldn't.

Fear had such a strong grip on me that I couldn't move. All I could do was smile, keep my distance, please him the way he wanted, and lie to my surroundings. But everyone knew with whom I lived yet people were cowards, and no one there to help. Just a pat on the back, understanding nods, and heavy sighs. That's all I got.

I blamed myself although he was the one to blame for his anger issues, gambling, and alcohol addiction.

I lived with a monster yet I was too afraid to leave the cave... and I blamed myself for it. For lack of self-respect, lack of courage, and lack of words I needed to say and end that torture.