Random Short Story Thing written by Zael...

Part Two (End)

***Edited a little by Landen.***

After a few months of this, I started to doubt our relationship. Which is stupid, because I probably should have started to doubt him after the first time, but I had blinded myself so much with fake love that it took me too long to realize that this wasn't going to work out.

                I first brought up the topic of us breaking up with a joke one Saturday night when we were sitting on the couch in his apartment, watching a movie.

                To be honest, the fact that he was living alone should have been a bit of a wakeup call to me anyway, but once again, I was blinding myself...

                I very casually brought it up, a joking tone in my voice, but I almost immediately felt him stiffen next to me, the air in the room became suffocating.  In fear, I scooted a millimeter away from him, flinching as he raised his hand and once again smacked me on the face.

                He obviously didn't think it was a joke...

                After that, I left hurriedly, wanting to get as far away from him as possible. I didn't seem him for a few days after that, not answering his calls or pretending to not be home when he came to knock on my families door.

                After a few days, he seemed to have calmed down a bit, so we got together again.

                But that was a big mistake.

                Before I go on. There is something else that makes what happens next all the much worse. Or at least, for me it did. I was still very much a virgin. Abstinent actually. I didn't plan on having sex with a man until I was positive I was deeply in love with him and we were married. But all of that flew out the window.

                We met up for a date the next day, but I was a few minutes late, once again because of traffic on my way there.

                It started as out the normal few smacks to the face, and by then, sadly, I was actually getting used to it. It didn't even hurt that much anymore. But then he got more violent and aggressive. His hit number grew and so did the intensity of each one, soon enough he had me on the floor, curled up in a ball of immense pain.

                Then he started to kick me, right in the stomach, leaving marks that I knew would hurt too much to get up in the morning. He grabbed my already bruised arm harshly, tugging me up off the ground and tugging my almost limp body to his apartment.

                Truth is, I had never really been in his bedroom before. He knew that I was abstinent and I thought that he respected that, which is why I had never been near the room for more than a few seconds. But by now, I was laying limply in one of the corner's of the bed, hugging my body tightly while sobs racked through my body.

                Yes, he had raped me.

                I needed to break up with him. That much was obvious. But I was scared. I didn't know what he would do if I broke up with him, how he would react to it, what he would do to me, or if he would even let me get the words out before beating me as bad as today, probably worse.

                But I had to try.

                It took me a few weeks of planning on how to say it before I figured out when to do it. And during those few weeks, I saw him a lot, but I only allowed it to be briefly, coming up with little excuses to get me out of spending more than a couple hours with him, most of the time it was less.

                I asked him out on a date one night, taking him to the pizza parlor that we were fond of, and he agreed happily, obviously not suspecting a thing. The night went on normally, as most of our dates did, until the end, when we were in the car driving home.

                "Mason...I-I think we need to stop seeing each other..."

                Those were my exact words as I sat in the passenger seat, not daring to look over and meet his eyes.

                He froze and pulled over to the side of the street, silent for a few moments. Then he started to bombard me with questions, asking why, and for how long I had been planning this. Asking if I ever really loved him. Tears were literally streaming down his cheeks as he got out of the car and slammed the door.

                Hesitantly, I followed suit, though closed the door quietly before rounding the front of the car and stepping next to him.

                My eyes widened when he lifted up his hand, flinching away from him before he took a step towards me. But when I peeked open an eye, not feeling anything come into contact with me, my breath caught in my throat at the sight of the gleam of moonlight against steel.

                I continued to back away from him, unable to breath as stepped towards me, knife in his hand and directed at me.

                He had a crazy look on his face, almost as if he wasn't completely conscious of what he was doing. Tears stains were still able to be seen as I was backed against the hood of the car, leaning against it as much as I could, trying to get as far away from the knife edge as possible.

                Without a seconds thought, he brought the knife down on my side.

                I didn't feel the pain right away. It wasn't until I was gasping for breath and felt warm liquid trailing down my right leg that I was able to process what had actually happened. I had been stabbed.

                A managed to get a strangled scream out before forcing myself off the hood of the car, ducking under his arm with my hands held tightly over the wound, unconsciously knowing that I needed to stop the bleeding.

                There wasn't any use in that though, I backed onto the edge of the street and within seconds, I felt impact on my right side all over again.

                This was a lot harder though, hurt more. But the pain only lasted a few seconds before it left and so did I. My body was there, but I was not.

                What happened that night is still a mystery to me. I'm not sure why exactly Mason was the way he was, and I don't know if he ever got caught, I don't know what happened to my body after that.

                But now that I think back, I realize all the stupid mistakes I made during the whole year I spent with him. How I could have prevented all of this. I look back and notice little things that I should have noticed before, but was just too blinded to see when I was alive.

                And even though I died at the end, I'm in some way glad at how it happened. I'm grateful that I didn't die at that man's hands.

                If I did, I don't think I'd be where I am right now...

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Oh my... You know, I'm really starting to worry about where I come up with these things... it can't be a good thing that all of my short stories end in tragedy...

Anyway, that's the end... I'll probably upload more short stories cause my writers block has yet to leave my mind.

And by the way, I'm leaving where she is to your imagination, I know that everyone believes in different things so I didn't want to put a specific place.

So yeah, that's it...

                                                                                           ~~Zael