I Am His

Makeup Artist

I woke up to my alarm. My arm reached for my phone quickly shutting it off. I grabbed the blanket and threw it off me making my way to the restroom.

Another day was starting, but I never knew how to feel about them.

I showered and put on a tank top with a thin sweater, my jeans, and white converse. I made my way to my makeup station and started on my routine.

Primer, foundation, concealer, bronzer, etc.

Looking for work was hard, especially when everyone knew about me.

They knew my situation.

They knew about him.

I was seen, but no one helped, for my case had been lost.

The door was a few steps away, but before opening it wide a hand on my shoulder stopped me. I jumped in terror knowing who it was. The hand turned me to him forcefully. His other hand made its way to my face gently grabbing ahold of my chin. He turned it from side to side seeing every part of my face.

"Make sure you come back with a job babe." His voice was sweet. I smiled slightly at him. I wasn't sure what to say so I nodded at him. I opened the door and heard him say he loved me before I closed it.

***

I was walking through the streets of London looking for a job. I was a makeup artist, so of course I was at the makeup stores. Some were hiring but once they'd see me they knew they could be better off without me.

I had gotten no's and sorry's but I kept looking, I was scared of going back without a job.

But this town is small and everyone knows what happens within it, I was never given a job after him and the last incident. He was sorry, he told me and I believed him, but it's cost me my career.

By the end of the day I realized that just like yesterday and the week before I was going home with no job. I made my way back fully knowing what was to come, but expecting a change for once.

The door was opened carefully; I hoped he wouldn't hear me.

"Babe, you're back." He hugged me and picked me up the floor. "I made us your favorite, spaghetti."

I smiled and mumbled thanks. We both sat in our usual spots, across each other. The plates were served already making us ready to eat.

I was nervous. I could feel the question hanging in the air. I went in for the spaghetti, I spun the fork trying to gather a good amount, and right before it went to my mouth he asked me the question.

"Find a new job babe?"

There was no way to avoid the question.

"I- no one gave me one" I whispered under my breath.

"You got no job!" I jumped startled at his voice.

"Nobody gave-"

His chair squeaked against the floor once he abruptly stood up. He got closer to me, his demeanor showed anger and power.

"Why do you make me do this, why do you go against my orders? I tell you to come back with a job and you can't."

He sounded defeated, sad even that I wasn't listening to him.

I didn't get to even say how it wasn't my fault, that this was his, but honestly I would not even say it if I had all the time in the world.

I never really feel them anymore. What I feel is the pain he has to deal with afterwards. I can't say I've gotten used to them because they are always a shock to me when he does it, but being the end to them daily numbs you. I'm not sure how many I receive; I notice it once I'm in front of the mirror.

"I'm sorry love." He finally stopped. Tears are coming out of him. "I didn't mean to, you just need to listen okay."

I softly nodded my head up and down. He pecked me on the lips and helped me stand up. "Go cover them up, I hate seeing you with them."

My pace was slow I could feel my face pulsing. Entering the room I closed the door and went to my makeup area. Four hits. Big dark purple bruises. I retouched my makeup making sure that every bruise was hidden behind it.

I was a makeup artist for this reason. I hid behind the makeup. I loved doing makeup on people especially when the reason was not like mine. I enjoyed doing makeup for people who were happy wearing it. I never felt happy with it; I wish I could go a day without it.