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Trigger Warning: Abuse
*Your POV*
My cheek stung as he slapped me. "You bitch!" he yelled. Tears stung my eyes. "You ruined it!" He balled up the shirt and threw it at me. "You stained it!"
I looked at him, my eyes filling with tears. "I- I didn't mean to!" I cried. That was the first time he's ever hit me or ever yelled.
Bob may have gotten drunk a lot, but he was real sweet when he was sober. He's never once yelled at me or hit me. Not even while drunk. This was the first time.
He glared, but it softened when he realized what he'd done. "Babe..."
I started to cry. "You've never hit me before!" I cried. My cheek stung where he'd slapped me. "Y- you yelled at me and hit me and called me a bitch!"
"I didn't mean too," he said. I could head the tears forming in his eyes as he spoke. If he was close to crying as he spoke, you'd here it. "I- I don't know what happened!"
"Save it," I snapped. "I know what happened. You talk like that too all greaser's. That's what I am! I'm a greaser. And you've finally started treating me like one. So save it and go find some prissy Soc." I pointed to the door of my house. "Get out."
"Babe that's not true..." he said. Tears slipped on to his cheeks. "You're not just a greaser to me."
"No it IS true!" I yelled. "You remember what I told you when we first started dating? I told you if anyone, ANYONE, ever hit me again I would cut them out of my life entirely! Because the thing I am the most afraid of in the entire WORLD is having an abusive boyfriend."
"I'm not ever going to hurt you again!" he cried, his voice cracking. "I swear!"
"I said get out, Bob," I said softly. "Please. I- I'll call you tomorrow and talk to you. Okay?"
He blinked out tears. "Okay," he said. He kissed my forehead. I loved it when he did that. It made me want to jump into his arms and never let him go.
He walked out the door and I walked up to my bedroom. I locked the door after myself and cried myself to sleep.
What have I done?! I thought. I just lost the person who meant more than anything to me because of some stupid promise I made to myself!
I cried hard and for a long time before I fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.
The next day, I woke up to the smell of French toast and bacon, my favorite meal of all time. But I lived alone.
I pulled on a bath robe and walked downstairs to see Bob, making French toast on a griddle and frying bacon in a pan. I smiled.
"What's this?" I asked.
"An apology?" he asked, handing me plate. It did look very nice. The toast was perfectly golden brown and there was just enough powdered sugar. The bacon was a perfect crispy.
"We'll see how this tastes," I said. "And I'll see if I accept your apology."
I sat at my table and had a bite of everything. It really was amazing.
"This is delicious," I said honestly. "I love it. And... I accept your apology."
