A Billion Stings

I. A Billion Beginnings

"Emily, do you know what you did wrong today?"

"Yes Matt, I asked you to stop smoking."

"And why is that a bad thing?"

"Because I have no right to tell you what to do."

Matthew kisses my forehead, his eyes filled with nothing but loving warmth. When he talks again, I smell the pungent smoke, but I refrain from coughing. "Good. Remember Emily, everything I say to you is out of love. You know that I want you to be the best possible person you can be."

I nod, understanding his love for me. He makes me feel special. He isn't afraid to point out my flaws whenever I do something wrong. He doesn't assume I can't handle certain things because I'm female. For that, I love him. I always will; after all, he never fails to remind me that he's the best thing that could ever happen to me. I truly believe it.

"Good," he holds out a disgusting cigarette and a lighter, "but to prove that you really love me, you're going to light this up and smoke it. Until I tell you to stop, smoke it like it's the best gift you've ever received."

I don't hesitate. If he wants me to prove my love, then I will. I see the flame on the lighter and I light up the cigarette, putting it in my mouth.

Immediately, I hunch over hacking my lungs out. Matt doesn't know I have problems with my lungs- I've told him before but it was my fault he disregarded it, since he was busy watching television when I told him.

He watches me with an adoring grin, patting me on the back a few times before letting me resume smoking. I recompose myself and puff the cancer stick, hoping the drags won't worsen my lungs too badly.

Matt reaches over and grips the butt of the cigarette, pulling it out in between my lips. "See, that wasn't too bad. Just one more thing."

My eyes close shut as I brace myself for what's about to happen next. I feel the lit side of the cigarrete press against my wrist, sliding up until it reaches my elbows. Screaming or crying isn't an option, Matt told me long ago that I couldn't be weak. 'Girls cry over the stupidest things, it's sickening. Be more like a man, you can handle it Emily.'

When I feel the excruciating pain fade away, I open my eyes again and take a few deep breaths. I'm okay, I'm alive. Proving my love is the most important thing I can do, even if it means a few scars.

Matt leans over and kisses me, gripping my hair in the process. He leans in to the right side of my head. "Remember Emily, what happens here has to stay here. Most people won't understand this type of love. Our love is so rare that people would shame us for it. You wouldn't want that, would you?" His words come out like flowing honey but his grip on my hair is almost unbearable.

I shake my head. Matt doesn't know his own strength, he would never purposely hurt me without good reason.

"Good. Go to work, and come straight home. If any man outside of work tries to talk to you, tell him you're supposed to meet your boyfriend."

Heading upstairs, I examine the burning imprints on my arm. It's not as bad as last time, I can easily drain the ashes out with some warm water, disinfect it with alcohol, and hide it with concealer. I do just that, managing not to cry out at the stings the water and alcohol bring. The concealer probably isn't quickening the healing process, but it's necessary. I pull a plain white long sleeve shirt over my head and pair it with a denim skirt. It's hot outside, but I don't feel comfortable showing dozens of scars running up and down my arms.