Purple Heart | Demi Lovato

5

Demi

I woke up the next morning laying alone, in the master bedroom. I blinked sleepily, confused by my new surroundings. How had I gotten here?

I walked downstairs and saw Wilmer sitting at the kitchen table, hunched over his laptop.

"Did you move me last night?"

He looked up and nodded. "I don't want you to be in danger Demi. I moved you after you fell asleep."

I sighed, sitting down next to him. "I'm not in danger, Wilmer. You're not gonna hurt me."

"I already have." He snapped. "I already have hurt you beyond what I ever imagined. You had bruises for days, Demi. You think that's not me hurting you? You think that's okay?"

"I know that wasn't you-"

"No." He interrupted me. "It was me. That's what I am trained to do. I'm trained to kill. I'm trained to strangle people with my bare hands. I am a trained killer, and you refuse to see the danger in that."

"What are we going to do?" I whispered. "Never sleep in the same bed again?"

"No- I don't know. I can't put you in that danger though."

"Please." I leaned into him and put my hand on his thigh, my chin on his shoulder. "I can't keep sleeping without you. I can't live like this for the rest of my life. You need to talk to someone."

"No!" He pushed my hand away. "I already told you, I'm not fucking crazy."

I flinched; it wasn't often that Wilmer cursed, especially at me. "I know that." I soothed, rubbing his back. "I just think it could help. I think it could help you feel better. You don't have to talk to me about it if you don't want to, but just to talk to someone; anyone."

"I don't want to talk about it. I don't want to re-live what happened there."

"You said re-live." I murmured. "Baby that's PTSD."

"So now you're a therapist, huh?" He laughed and shook his head. "I don't need anything or anyone. Okay?"

I looked down and away, blinking fast so the tears didn't fall. "Not even me?"

He sighed and just looked back at his computer. "Look, I have work to do."

"Work? What kind of work? You're out, Wilmer." My voice was terse. "You promised."

"Things change." He snapped.

"Things change?" I curled up my lip. "Or you changed?"

~*~

Things only got harder.

I caught Wilmer on the phone talking to some military guy, talking about going back overseas, and paced around the kitchen, trying not to fully lose it.

I wouldn't be able to handle him going back over. I wouldn't be able to deal with losing my husband to that place again. Afghanistan had already taken a piece of his soul, and I wasn't about to allow it to take the rest of him.

So, when Wilmer walked back into the kitchen after hanging up the phone, I stood with my arms crossed, ready to fight it out.

"What was that about?"

"My mom."

I gritted my teeth. "I would not lie to me right now."

His eyes met mine and slowly he put his phone down, his hands flexing at the tension suddenly filling the room.

"What?"

"I know that was not your mother on the phone."

"So now you're listening to my phone calls?" He scoffed. "Nice to get some privacy."

"Privacy goes out the window when you're talking about trying to go back over there." I hissed, and saw his eyes narrow.

"What are you going to stop me or something?"

"Wilmer." I said, low and calm. "If you go back there, I will leave you."

At this, he stepped back, his eyes popping open wide. I had just gone nuclear. I'd hit the big red button and there was no going back.

"Excuse me?"

"I can't deal with it." I said, tears coming to my eyes. "Wilmer I can't do this. Not for the rest of my life. Either you get help, or I leave."

"I don't need any help!"

"Yes you do!" My voice rose in volume, escalating the situation. "All you care about is your pride, your ego! You don't care about me, or my feelings! You want to go back there so you can right whatever wrongs you committed but that's not the way the world works!"

"You know nothing about the way the world works!" He yelled back. "You know nothing about the outside world! You can sit in this house, and you can watch the news, and you can psychoanalyze me all you want but you know NOTHING!" His last word was a roar, his entire body trembling. Wilmer turned on his heel to walk out but I stepped forward, grabbing his arm.

It happened almost instantly.

Wilmer wheeled around, his eyes dark and angry as his hand flew around, catching me cheek and causing me to fall to the ground. I hit the floor hard, slamming my shoulder into the tile with a thud.

Neither of us moved for a moment.

I curled into myself, my cheek exploding in a wave of pain as I let out a low groan. My head was swimming from the pure force behind the hit and beside me, Wilmer fell to his knees.

"Demi I-"

"Out." I croaked, squeezing my eyes shut. "Get out."

"Demi-"

"Out." I could barely look at him. "Please."

I never raised my voice higher than a whisper.

Wilmer stood, and walked out. I didn't move until I heard the front door open and shut, slowly pushing myself up into a sitting position and leaning against the wall.

He hit me.

Never in my wildest dreams had I ever believed Wilmer would get so far gone that he would hit me. I never believed he could be capable of slapping me across the face like I was nothing more than stranger to him.

My cheek had to be bad. I was too afraid to even look in the mirror. Already my skin was swelling, and painful to the touch. I slowly rotated my shoulder, wincing in pain when the joint screamed in protest.

I didn't know how much longer I could do this for.

He's my husband, and I promised in front of God, and our family, and our friends that I would love him, no matter what. That I would love him through the good times and the bad. That I would support him, and protect him, by doing everything in my power.

But it hurts so bad.

Not the physical; I could deal with physical. The mental pain was the worst of it. Going to bed and waking up alone. Not laughing with him at the stupidest moments, or staying up half the night whispering how much we loved each other.

A lump formed in my throat when I realized the night in D.C. was the last time I heard him tell me he loved me. A part of me made excuses, that he was going through a hard time right now, that he'd snap out of it.

Another part of me panicked; would I ever get my husband back?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Comment and Vote!

Twitter: Lovatic_Chica

-Rachel