His grip on her waist tightens, ''I can't let you go.''
Natalia looks up at him confused before whispering, ''why?''
He gulps, his voice strained when he says, ''because losing you...would break me into pieces.''
↝ ♛ ↜
Natalia Gomez has learned to...
[ Disclaimer: this chapter may be triggering to victims of abuse, so please read at your own discretion. ]
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T W O | M E M O R Y
''There was an accident.''
''You've been in a coma.''
''For two weeks.''
It all kept replaying in her head that day. It was all a lot to process but for some reason, she found it easy. There had been an accident - yes clearly - she looks down at herself before moving her slim fingers. The coma part, that's what got her. It felt as if it were mere moments, short blissful moments, that she was asleep. At peace. Safe.
They had done several tests after Dr Marfell came to see her earlier. Always asking for her name and date of birth before providing her with medication. She turns her head to look at the view of the beach again. The window is closed this time but thankfully the curtain is still open, giving her a front row view of the sun slowly drifting to sleep.
Layers of red azaleas compliment the warm tones of the sky. A breeze nuzzles through them, tugging on some petals until they come loose, swirling in the air. Natalia frowns at how pigmented they are, not a bright red but a deep red, reminding her of - she quickly lays back, wincing at the sudden movement. She could do nothing as the memory surfaced behind her closed lids.
''You fucking piece of shit,''his voice frightened her more than his actions, ''can you not get one thing right?'' She could feel her blood pulsing in her head. She tries to get up, bracing against the concrete wall but he's at her again. The belt buckle slices into her lower back this time, making her whimper. She wouldn't cry, not in front of him, she wouldn't dare give him such pleasure.
''Get up,'' his voice was low and utterly calm. She tried to swallow that fear, that tight knot in her throat but it was useless. He was at his worst when he was calm. Behind his looming figure, the rectangular ceiling light flickers, the soft hum it produces reminding her that this was real.
Her feet stumble to get up but fail and without giving her a chance to protest, he grips her hair, forcefully tugging her back, making her hit her head on the concrete floor. The room swirls as she turns her head to the left. Seeing that deep red - her blood - on the wall, on the floor, it sent a chill through her. For a moment she wondered if - like the silky liquid that slithered down the wall - she would be forgotten, discarded, be left to rot where she was after he was done with her. It was likely. The thought made her sick to her stomach but she welcomed it, knowing that she'd be at peace soon.
''If you don't fucking get up princess...'' He kneels after dropping the belt. Transferring the lit cigarette to his now free hand, he grips her jaw with the other.
