it was her birthday, she was terrified to remind him. she hoped he'd be kind to her that day, only punch her twice, only rape her once.
but she was wrong. for he did much more than that. it was almost as if he had once again morphed into the man she had once loved.
he was gentle, he asked for her permission. he let her cut her own birthday cake and he allowed her one phone call to her mother, the only condition being that she would not speak of what he did to her.
and she took it all unthinkingly, she basked in his material affection.
and for the first time in seven months, she smiled;
for he was still her beloved.
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What He Was (✓)
Poetryhe was her lover, she was his servant. he was her salvation, she was his puppet. he was her catastrophe and she was his provocation. • Please don't read this if you're younger than thirteen. #02 in short story 6/3/17 #03 in short story 13/1/17 #04...
