Abusive relationship

Chapter 9

I slowly made my way towards the bus stop as I stared at the floor, full of a feeling I am very familiar with.

Regret. Loneliness. Guilt.

I cannot fully explain those feelings, because most of the time I am unsure of why I feel them.

Why should I feel regret when I know that Jake does the exact same thing to me? Why should I feel lonely when I have Oliver? Why should I feel guilty, knowing that Jake has been treating me like dirt since the day we moved away together?

A sigh escaped from my dry mouth after I realised that I had made a serious mistake. If I ever have children, the main thing I will preach to them is to never trust anyone who you've known for less than a year. To be honest, I don't think I will ever be capable of trusting anyone again, or letting anyone into my life. I can't even let Oliver into my life. After that kiss I felt close to a panic attack, I felt as though Oliver was horrible for causing me to fall for him. I felt like a whore, a word my boyfriend loves to call me.

I decided to walk all the way home. Mainly because I was scared to see Jake, but also because I felt like I didn't deserve a lift. I felt like this was my punishment for being so stupid.

I remember my parents always telling me off for being so hard on myself. And annoyingly, I'd always argue with them, not realising that the reason why they told me those things was because they cared. I always wondered why my family were so poor, why they couldn't maintain a serious job like the rest of my friend's families. I didn't realise how lucky I was. To be loved and cared for, and to feel safe and comfortable in my own home. Who needs money when you have those things?

When I first moved in with Jake and realised how ridiculous I was being, I'd always lock myself in the bathroom and cry into a towel for hours. Jake never questioned it. I always wondered why. He'd never say anything when I'd throw up, or let out a little wail which the towel didn't manage to silence. I'd always cry about my family. I think about them all the time but never cry anymore. Instead, I have a numb feeling, and when I sometimes look into the mirror, my eyes stare back at me with a dull gaze. As though nothing matters anymore. 

People moved past me, trapped in their own heads as I am in mine. Children laugh, tantrum, cry or whine. I see their parents react: placating, frustrated, sometimes warm.  Couples hold hands and exchange soft chuckles or warm smiles. Friends link arms or walk closely together, letting out innocent giggles or leaning their heads towards one another whilst lost in their own conversations. I remember those old days when I was a kid. I mean, I still am a kid. But I certainly don't feel like one. 

I talk about Jake as though I don't love him, but instead hate him and want him dead. The truth is: I think all of those things about him.

It's hard to stop loving him. When his fingers trail across my body it's addicting. When he smiles, it's intoxicating. His laugh is contagious and makes me drown in an overwhelming rush of joy. Every single time he steals a part of me, he makes it impossible for me to put myself back together. Yet I always come rushing back to him. Why is that? Perhaps I am so desperate for him to return what he's stolen. But that never happens, instead, I always end up loosing more. His heart is cold, he can never truly love anyone but himself. Him and his flirtatious self. I couldn't help but smile, thinking of how charming he is. But he knows what he does to me. He doesn't mind my company, but he could never, ever return the love I give to him.

After a short two hours of me slowly walking in cold temperatures whilst getting lost in my thoughts, I found myself trembling in front of an unwelcoming looking door. I knew he was in there, his bedroom window was still open, which made me wonder if after three or four hours he's still in our room, making love with that girl. That beautiful girl, who had eyes which could hypnotise any guy into loving her, and a jawline that looked so sharp it could kill. 

I grabbed my keys and shakily unlocked my door. 

"I'm home," I said as cheerily as possible, slowly making my way to the garden. I knew that that way he couldn't yell at me for he's always been worried about the neighbours hearing him. Some days I wonder if they can hear but never care to save me. 

My heart dropped when I saw his figure stand outside the door. His eyes stared into mine as I sat on a lone bench at the back of our garden. Sitting here always made me feel isolated and alone.

"Don't make me drag you here." He said it jokingly so that nobody would suspect anything, but his gaze was full of anger. I slowly got up and made my way towards him, staring at the fence beside me, wondering if there was any way I could jump over it and escape. 

A fist heavily hit my nose, causing me to sharply turn and fall to the floor from the shock of the pain. Blood instantly dripped onto my hands and floor, soon forming a pool of scarlett red which caused me to feel lightheaded. Everything spun around, but I knew I couldn't allow myself to faint, knowing that although I couldn't help it it would further anger Jake and result in him doing more damage. Possibly even killing me. This is something I always fear whenever he beats me up. He could do it no problem because he'd know that I'd be too scared to try and stop him. 

"Bitch." He spat, walking away and slamming the door behind him, causing a picture of the day we first met to fall and shatter. We were in his farm dealing with a sheep who had given birth to a lamb. That day was so special to me. I was convinced that Jake was a kind, mature guy who I could trust. 

And to be completely honest, I'm almost certain that that was the last time I ever allowed myself to trust anyone again.