I Hate Love

The Beginning of the End

It was a stormy day in New York, but that did not stop business as usual. Another punch to send me to the floor. Another kick to knock the wind from my lungs. "Leave him," I could hear my family call to me. "He'll kill you," my friends cried.

"I'll change him," was always my response.

"I said give me your phone!" It wasn't the first time he requested to check my phone. It was a daily tradition. I was denied privacy. Secrets were not allowed.

"I told you," I said as the blood from my nose reached my upper lip. I was afraid to talk back, but I couldn't keep getting beat for something outside of my control.

"It's getting repaired after you shattered it," I whimpered.

"Who told you to talk back to me?!"

I felt his fist constrict around my throat. It wasn't the first time he had choked me this week. It wasn't even the first time today. However, he was holding tighter this time. He lifted me, pinning my back to the wall as he continued to strangle me. I could only release a soft whimper as the room began to spin. With my tiny bit of strength, I attacked his arm. I punched, scratched and pinched. My attacks dealt no damage. I was a small girl, only reaching a height of 5'3". I was already weak from malnutrition. My hazel eyes could only stare into his steely blue ones. Those damn eyes.

Those god damn eyes. The ones that brought me here in the first place. I could remember it like it was yesterday, and now it is one of the flashes flying across my vision. It was five years, two months, and nine days ago. Around two in the morning. It was the last call for drinks. I had just been laid off from work. The eviction notice was already stapled onto my door. I would have to move back to Portland with my "parents". I would have let them down once again. I was afraid and vulnerable. I was
twenty-four and already a failure in life.

As I wept into my old fashioned, I heard a stool being pulled up next to me at the bar. No words were said, but I felt a pat on my shoulder. It was somewhat comforting. I looked up to see a tall, handsome man. This was before his five o'clock shadow turned into a scruffy, scratchy clump of hair that could hardly be considered a beard. You could still see his jawline. His blue eyes were piercing through me. He saw straight through me. It felt as though he could read me. Like he already knew me.

"Another old fashioned for the lady," he said to the barkeep before facing me.

"You don't have to..."

"I want to," he cut me off.

A goofy smile was plastered on my face in place of a blush. My warm, caramel skin did not turn red nor pink. He picked up on my grin, giving me one of his own. I should have noticed the grey and yellow tint of his teeth. A long history of smoking and drinking had ruined his mouth. I could taste it when we kissed. I could smell it on his skin. We had left the bar before my drink was even ready. I found myself in the backseat of his car. Even though he tasted like whiskey-smoked jerky, his kiss was deep and passionate. It felt like he actually cared. Though, now I think he just wanted to get into my pants. However, that one night just wasn't enough for him.

I woke up the next morning in his apartment. I was drowning in the fabric of his shirt while the blanket covered him. I had no memory of the night before, but I should have been suspicious of the bruises plastered across my skin. 'Love marks,' I guessed. I snuck out of his bed, out of the room, and out of the front door. This was my first time escaping him. I wish I had known to run at the time. Too bad he always had a way of finding me.

I sat at the coffee shop, waiting for my bestfriend to show up. We had been going to this cafe every Tuesday at ten since junior year of high school. Little did I know our visits would be limited after this. While playing on my phone, I noticed I had a new number. It was added just last night. "The One," it said. The name was encased in heart emojis as if it were my middle school crush. I couldn't help but assume it was the man from last night. I should have seen it as a red flag then and there. How did he even get past my password. But, that didn't even matter. It was too adorable of a notion to be a red flag. Then it hit me. I didn't even know his name. As I examined the contact, I heard the bell chime above the cafe door. I turned to see my best friend. There he was. Almost as if I had summoned the devil himself. They walked in hand-in-hand. That was the first time he found me.