// HEY GUYS SO YEAH. this is chapter one of my fanfic. . LEGGO.
- - - - It's been three years. Three years since I first entwined my fingers with his. Three years since my heart last overflowed with joy. Now I'm twenty years old, and the joy has been gone for quite some time now. I remember the first few weeks where everything was alright. We went out to watch drive-in movies, and stayed up until the early morning eating sourpatch kids on my roof. It was what every teenage girl would dream of in a relationship. But somewhere along the way, we lost that spark. The lovely sort of love we used to have went missing. It was replaced with yelling and arguments and sleepless nights. Soon, I was arriving home at midnight with bruises all over and cuts on my lips. One of the beauties of being a girl is that we can hide these blemishes with makeup without being questioned. And so far it's been working for me. I sit at my vanity and apply just the last touch of foundation to the bruise near my eye. Last night was rough, but not unlike every other. I used to believe he did it because he loved me, but now I don't even know what to think of it. You're not supposed to hurt people you love. You're not supposed to be the reason they're kept up at night crying and praying it will be better tomorrow. Although, it still happens, and there's no explanation as to why. He tells me I should be thankful he wants me to his, but is that an indirect way of saying no one else would ever want me? I take a moment to stare in the mirror and make sure there are no flaws or smudges concerning my makeup. After dabbing a bit of powder on top of the layers, I stand from my seat and walk out of my bedroom, struggling to keep my eyes open. The house is quiet except for the patter of my dogs scampering around. Toulouse runs over to me and begins to jump up on me, and I push her down with a gentle "no" in case she hits one of the bruises. I have to be cautious. Coco knows not to do it anymore, but Toulouse and Ophelia still have to learn. I walk over to the couch with a yawn and sit down before pulling out my phone, a small crack in the screen from being thrown across the room. There are ten missed messages. One from Alexa, one from Frankie, two from Jones, and six from my boyfriend. Frankie, Alexa, and Jones' texts were just replies to our current conversations, and I read them. Biting my lower lip, I contemplate whether or not I should open the six unread ones or not, but I never end up deciding. My eyelids shut, Toulouse crawling beside me and nuzzling up in my side. I drift off to sleep again. I wake up about half an hour later to a rough, loud banging on the door. Shit. The six messages have gone up to fifteen now. Quickly, I get up from the couch, my puppy jumping off beside me. I shoo her away and walk to the door. I take a deep breath and unlock it, barely turning the knob before it swings open. "H-Hi, Andrew."
