Deprivation ♱

Prologue ♱

I'm getting tired of it. So, so tired. Why am I the one who has to walk around on eggshells so he doesn't throw a fit? My mind has always done its best to convince me all I am and all I ever do is wrong, clouding my judgment between what can and can't be said and done. I swallow hard and bring my arms up to look at the bruises scattered around them. His love seems to always leave scars; even early on in the relationship, the way he showed affection was always so brutal. I felt my whole body go numb. Every part of me felt like it was being stabbed with needles. I pressed my lips into a thin line and burrowed my head down. Hot tears streamed down my cheeks, their warmth a stark contrast to the dark and cold room. Each sob was accompanied by the unwelcome trickle of snot, the freezing air biting at my skin and heightening the overwhelming sense of despair inside me. As I heard his footsteps draw closer, I took a deep, ragged breath, shutting my eyes tight. Each thump made my heart pound. Then, when they finally stopped in front of me, I flinched. I was surprised when I felt his arms wrap around me, gently pressing me closer to him. He stroked his hand up towards the back of my head, his fingers tangling into my hair. His head relaxed on my shoulder, and his smooth, black hair tickled my neck. I suddenly felt reconnected to the world around me, emerging from a sense of isolation that had left me feeling like I was trapped in a dark tunnel with no way out. I instinctively wrapped my arms around him, finding comfort in his embrace as I leaned my head softly against his neck. After he let out a whispered sob.

"I'm sorry. This is the last time, I promise."