Her Hands

Chapter 1

Icy cold hands grasp my throat. So cold I can almost feel the numbness seeping through them, into my neck.

I close my eyes and pray.

Pray for this to be over.

Pray to be away from here.

Away from her.

But I know if I leave her, I'll be nothing.

"Look at me, dammit!"

The hands close tighter.

I can just barely breathe.

"Please..." I manage.

The hands release me from their vice-like grip.

"Pathetic. You call yourself a man?!" She yells and throws book flying at my face. I'm so tired that I just barely miss it and it grazes my cheek.

Another book comes flying my way and she continues to scream, but I've learnt to blur it out, mostly. Even with my eyes closed and half my senses shutting down, I know she is by the bookcase. My pulse relaxes a little, she must be getting tired, too.

She stops screaming and I hear a door slam.

She's done.

My body finally drops to the floor. I can feel my eyes and nose stinging with the tears of guilt.

It's my fault, it always is.

I try to keep them in, I won't be a cry-baby like she thinks I am.

But the tears come in floods and soon I am on the floor sobbing, my body is convulsing and shuddering as I try to keep my hiccups as quiet as possible.

If she hears me crying she might get angry at me again. She hates when I cry, she tells me I'm more of a girlfriend.

Even though I'm a good 6ft and she's only about 5,10ft she still manages to overpower me.

It's my fault. I'm too weak.

I always am.

I bury my head further into my hands when I hear the footsteps a few minutes later.

"Baby?" She says quietly, rubbing her warm hands over my spine.

"I'm sorry, I lost control. I thought I could contain my anger, but you pushed me too far." Hooking her finger under my chin, she lifts my face to meet hers.

"Don't cry, now. That's not manly at all." She wipes her fingers at the dry streaks of tears running down my face and presses her lips gently to mine.

The sour taste of her afternoon drink floods my mouth. I almost try to pull away, but my face is held stiff in her hands.

I feel the numbness covering me. The little bit of control I had was now lost. The rope had been severed.

I wanted my life back, but she's told me more than once what she will do if I ever leave her. I feel the tears creeping back and now I just let them fall.

Either she doesn't notice or she doesn't care, but she doesn't react, she just deepens the kiss. I feel bile rising in my throat.

She gives a feeble tug on my shirt and mumbles something out before moving back to the bedroom.

I let out a quiet sigh and slump against the wall again.

After a while, I feel my feet carry me to the bathroom. I look in the mirror, disgusted by how pathetic I could be.

How could you let your own girlfriend beat you like this?! Wimp! Idiot! Loser! Weak!

My mind screams these words at me as I continue to stare at the man looking back at me in the mirror.

"That's not me," I whisper, my eyes grazing over the big purple bruise beginning to form around my neck and the cut on my cheek.

My heart begins to beat quickly and my palms start to sweat. My head starts to spin and I sit down on the toilet seat to keep myself from passing out, but it does nothing as the darkness surrounds me. (598)