Hate is a strong word, but I still hate you.

Chapter six, Not Katy too

*Rayne's POV*

   I woke up to a sweet, sickly smell. I slipped out of bed and into the kitchen area. Taylor was stood at the cooker, frying something.
   When she turned around and noticed me she smiled and slipped the pancake on the a plate with others. She dumped the pan in the sink and sat at the table.
   She leaned over to grab one of the condiments. As she did she winced and both hands tentatively held her stomach.
   "Taylor?" I asked. She let out a small breath and sucked in a sharp one. As she did so a tear slipped from the corners of her eye. It slowly traveled over her cheek and past the corner of her mouth. Sliding down her chin and lingering for a moment before falling to the table and shattering.
   I walked over to her slowly and rest an arm around the back of her neck.
   "What's wrong?" I asked. She looked up and her tears had been joined by many more.
   She slid out from my grasp and ran to the bedroom. I followed her and I saw her looking in the full length mirror.
   The bottom of her shirt was slightly raised and she was examining her stomach. At the moment she was blocking her reflection from view but when she turned I saw her stomach and she saw me in the mirror.
   Her entire stomach was a deep purple. She dropped her shirt and slammed the door, locking it. I heard her begin crying and I sank to the floor to wait for her.

*Katy's POV*

   "You bastard." I spat. I had just hung up on Rayne and John was in the doorway. "I thought you were over this. That it was just me."
   He pulled me into a hug and I tried to push away. He held onto me tighter.
   "Don't fight. I love you. I went to check up on Rayne and she came down on me." 
   "Liar! I know you." He let go only to pick me up at the waist.
   "I guess I have to do it again." He threw me to the floor and I hit my head. I touched the side of my face and my entire hand came back bloody.
   John did his business and I shut my eyes. I'd learnt not to cry during this because that usually resulted in a beating. When he was done I waited for him to leave then I ran to the bathroom.
   I hesitantly looked in the mirror and saw the blood pouring from the hole in my head. There was a flab of skin barely on my head that was wafting about. I dressed and quickly drove to the hospital.
   I had seventeen stitches. They said to go back in a month to take them out. I didn't want to stay with John so when I pulled up into the driveway I filled a suitcase with clothes and grabbed the essentials.
   Ten minutes later I was driving again. At the traffic lights I dialled Shannon's number (my best friend) and put her on speakerphone.
   She answered with a sharp "what?!"
   "Are you in?" I asked, tears suddenly spilling out.
   "Yes! Why?" Her tone softened when she realised I was crying.
   "It's John." Was all I could say.
   "Katy, what happened?"
   "I can't, not over the phone."
   "Okay." She hung up and I turned up her driveway. I grabbed my case and Shannon was already at the door. Seeing her made my tears flow more. She ran over and gave me a hug.
   "Katy your face!" She traced the line of stitches and then dragged me inside.
   After she somehow calmed me down enough to talk I told her what had happened tonight.
   "Ass!"
   "It's not the first time either." I whispered. 
   "What. How many times?" 
   "I've lost count. It started about a month after I met him, when he moved in. He's done it maybe two times a day since I guess."
   "A day!" She gave me a hug and I cried into her hair.
   "Shannon. Can I stay here?" I asked.
   "Of course, idiot." I let out a weak laugh and continued crying.
   "Shannon, can you get me something?"
   "Yes."
   "I want a p-p-p-pregnancy test." 
   "You think he infected you with his spawn!" I cried more and she stroked my hair. After a while I fell asleep and, for once, I didn't dream.

   When I woke up Shannon was sat on the sofa, still, and was fast asleep with a white box in her hand.
   I prodded her awake and she sat up. She handed me the box.
   "Thanks." I whispered. I took it upstairs. I peed on the stick and I waited for the three minutes it asked.