I wake up in the morning to roll over and put my arms around Vic. I've missed him so much since his last tour, I'm so happy to have him in our bed again. "Good morning beautiful," he says as he turns to face me, his voice still cracking and waking up. I smile, "Good morning," I kiss him. We lay for a while in each others embrace, until Vic groans and rolls out of bed. "Better go get some food," he says. I smile, "Yeah." He picks me up out of bed, spins me around, and set me on my feet, with a kiss to make it just right. I feel myself blushing. This may sound cliche and stupid, but even though I've been with Vic for 3 years, he'll never be able to stop taking my breathe away. "I'll be right back," he says throwing on a hoodie and sweat pants. "Promise?" I wink. "Promise," he winks back. After he walks out of the bedroom, I let myself fall back onto the bed. I roll up the sleeves of my sweater to reveal a ladder of cuts up my arm. I feel a ping of guilt. I want to tell Vic so badly. I want to tell him that it feels like my life is falling apart, and he's the only thing holding me together. The only problem is, I don't want to explain why. It's too embarrassing . I start to cry just thinking about it. I slowly roll my sleeve back down and walk downstairs.
Vic and I sit at the kitchen table and eat some pancakes he made. "They taste wonderful," I smile at him. "Thanks," he smiles back. "So what do you have planned today?" I ask, wiping my mouth off with a napkin. "Whatever you're doing, I'm doing," he says reaching across the table and resting his hand on mine. Again, I feel myself blushing. "Good, lets just spend the day inside," I smile. "Sounds perfect," he smiles back.
I can still tell you the first time it ever happened. Vic was on tour. I was home alone. I invited him over to eat some pizza with me. He tried kissing me and I rejected him; the nest thing I knew I was on the kitchen floor with the side of my face burning like fire. I could feel the blood in my hair, and he was on top of me. I begged him to stop, I screamed, but he hit me. I begged him to stop, I cried so much I could barely breath. I just wanted it to be over. When he was finished with me, he just left. I remember him texting me, saying if I told anyone he'd make it his mission to kill everyone that I've told. I was shaking. I showered, and I called Vic thinking I was going to tell him. But what he said was stuck in my head, "I'll make it my personal mission," it sounded like something you'd hear off of a movie. But the abuse didn't stop there. At least once a week while Vic was gone, he would come over. He never gave a warning, he just showed up. Needless to say I never had a chance to leave. I tried staying with my parents, but he texted me saying if I didn't leave my parents would be gone. I was his now. And it feels like I'm slowly dying.
I feel him staring at me as me and Vic enter his apartment. "Whoa man, I really like what you did with the living room," Vic says walking over to the leather couch and plopping himself on it. "Yeah, a lot has changed since the last time you left," he says. I can feel him staring at me. I know what this means, but Vic is clueless. "I can tell," Vic half laughs. I fake a smile. "So, David how have you been?" I ask him, trying to be as casual as possible, but just looking at him makes me want to die. I choke back a whimper and tears. "Lovely. Yourself?" he asks walking over to a a chair in the kitchen. Vic walks over and sits beside me at the table. David sits across form us. "Great," I fake a smile. The minute Vic puts his arms around me I feel myself instantly calm down. It was like a warmth just spread all over my body; how you feel when you take your first sip of alcohol. "I was wondering if you'd maybe come down to practice tomorrow and help us fix the lights?" Vic asks. "Sure man," David says, smiling. How can he act like everything's okay? He knows what he's doing to me but he still smiles. He knows how he hurts me, but he still acts liek nothings wrong.
Later that night in bed I feel myself jump as Vic slides his arm under me. "What's the matter?" he asks. "Nothing," I say, trying to steady my voice. "You seem really anxious ever since I got home," he says, and even though its dark I can still see his concerned face. "It's nothing," I promise him. I kiss him. But he knows. Even though he says he believes me, I know he doesn't. And I know it's probably killing him that he doesn't know, but I can't do this to him. I can't drag him down with me. Besides this is all my fault isn't it?
I never knew how much I really loved Vic until I saw him talking to one of his fans. She was a young girl maybe 15 or 16. You could see burns on her neck, scars and cuts on her arms. When she saw Vic she ran hugged him. When Vic saw what was on her, he got teary eyed. "Please," he said to her, "Please let my music help you. We all go through rough times, that's what our music is about. Please the next time you feel like hurting yourself, look in the mirror and see how beautiful you are. Play music to help you. Please." The girl fell into his arms crying, "Thank you," she whispered. I knew then that I was in love with Vic Fuentes.
The next day I decided to stay home instead of going to rehearsals with Vic. I couldn't stand to see Daniel being his best friend like nothing even happens. Like he doesn't do anything. It makes me sick.
I'm sitting on the coach with my cat Buggers. He lays on my lap as I stroke him. 1 more hour until Vic gets back home. I let myself smile. I walk into the bathroom. That's when I hear him come in. "Miss me?" his voice echoes. I hold back a cry. In a panic I try to close the door, but he's already in the bathroom with me. He starts to unbutton his pants. I start sobbing, I can't help it. "Shut up!" she says, hitting me. I fall into the tub. "Please Daniel, not today please," I beg him, but it just makes him more angry. He forces himself on top of me, I can't struggle anymore. I feel my breathing getting heavier and harder. All I'm thinking about is how I wanna die. I close my eyes and Imagine I'm somewhere else.
Whenever he's done, he takes his time getting dressed. "Clean yourself up while you're in here slut. We wouldn't want your boyfriend 'Mr. Perfect' to find out, now would we?" he asks. I don't reply. "Answer me when I talk to you!" he yells, slapping me. I feel the warmth of blood in my nose. "No," I say, tears rolling down my face. "Good," he says while leaving the room. I stand up and look in the mirror. I start crying even harder. "You're disgusting," I tell myself. I turn the shower on and get in. I wash my face and I feel the cuts burning. I feel a bruise already on my cheek. I need to punish myself for this. I take a razor blade, and slowly cut across. When the skin breaks, more and more blood streams out. I feel better. I feel relieved. But it doesn't fix everything.
