She could hear him.
"My love? Where are you, my love?"
No, she didn't hear him. She heard his voice in her, in her head through her ears.
"You know I don't like playing games!" he yelled. His yelling was worse. She felt her skin crawling and her lungs knotting.
She had her back to a mossy tree. He couldn't see her, and she couldn't see him. His voice was getting closer and she squeezed my eyes shut. She begged for her feet to move. She probably could have outran him, but for the life of her, her feet couldn't move.
"I'm sorry for yelling, my love. I'm sorry. Will you come home? Come, sleep. You're tired and irrational."
He always did this.
He would yell and he would break things. He'd get drunk, hit her even... But every time he'd calm his voice down and seem like he wasn't going to do it again. He'd seem like he was sorry.
And she always believed him.
She moved away from the tree. She should run away, far away.
She walked toward him. His clothes were in disarray and his belt was missing, as he'd already used it on her back at the house. His arms were open and for some reason, she went between them. She cried into his chest.
He wrapped his burly arms around her and she sobbed into his flannel.
She sobbed because she was scared, and because she didn't run away. She never ran away. Where would she go?
"That's it," he rubbed her back soothingly. "I love you. Do you love me?"
The words were sour long before she said them, and she got tired of their taste. She coughed them up, "Yes, I love you."
"That's my love."
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clutter | rogers
Fanfictiona courageous survivor of domestic, mental, and sexual abuse moves to new york, only to find her clutter followed. she finds love in unexpected circumstances. • { disclaimer : I do not own the marvel franchise, the characters, movie/comic/novel plot...
