We had a fight.
Not one of those small fights that ended with a laugh or a sigh like we usually had. This one was a lot scarier.
He hit me.
But I deserved it.
I deserved it.
I deserved it.I should've done what he wanted.
I don't remember what we we're fighting about. All I can remember is our screams choking me, preventing me from breathing.
I wanted to cry. Tell him I was sorry for whatever I did or didn't do.
I didn't want him to feel angry anymore.
I wanted his forgiveness.
But at the end of the night he wanted mine.
YOU ARE READING
Cold
Short Story#27- flowers 11/21/18 #748- poetry We had this sick fantasy that we could be in love forever. That no one could tear us apart. Well, except ourselves.