I had cried myself back to sleep. I cried with everything I had in me but I cried mainly because I was tired. Tired of getting my ass beat black and blue and then being cuddled. Tired of the emotional back and forth so much that I lacked the mental stamina to remember to breath. I opened my eyes to realize that I was alone and still wrapped under the duvet, the AC was still humming low but the afternoon sun broke through the curtains and warmed my face.
I threw the covers back to see that the knife wound I had on my thigh was bandaged. The memory of her stabbing me came back with fresh tears and I wondered just how much of a sick fuck she was. At least she had the heart to clean up after herself. I slowly got up to a sitting position and stared around the now familiar room. I liked it. I loved how the sun danced across the dark pumpkin spice colored walls. How the dark maple wood furniture stood tall and proud, just like their owner. Her cologne and deodorant hung heavy in the air as if she had just left not too long ago.
My eyes caught sight of a set of crutches leaning against the nightstand and a smile crept onto my face. This was absolute madness! How dare she abuse me and then be thoughtful? As if to say, I can't not beat you but I also can't not take care of you. I wanted to hate her but a simple gesture like this was my love language and I hated that she was speaking it without knowing.
I hooked each crutch under my arms and struggled all the way to the kitchen. I was in immense pain because of my ribs, so much that I had more than once thought to ditch the crutches and just bear the pain of walking on the leg. I leaned against the counter happy to see that the Bluetooth speaker was exactly where I left it the last time. I knew she had left my phone on the counter, the fact that I had a passcode on it was another reason for her wrath. She would have to continue whooping my ass for that because I don't plan on removing my fingerprint even if it was her money that bought it. I had already given my old phone to my aunt and she was more than happy to upgrade from her Blu to an iPhone.
I connected my phone to the speaker and found a playlist that fit my mood before hitting shuffle. The piano version to This is Gospel by Panic! At the Disco started playing and I felt a bit relaxed. It was late so I decided to get started on dinner, it was also a Monday which meant she wanted pasta. Any kind of pasta, as long as it was pasta. She had a meal schedule and I wondered if she didn't tire of eating the same thing every week.
I filled the pot with water and took down the fettuccine pasta from the cupboard resting it on the counter waiting for the water to start boiling. As soon as the water started to boil I filled a cup with some and poured it over the chunks I had in a bowl. I dropped the pasta in the salted boiling water and used a wooden spoon to push them around trying to get them all under the water.
The chorus for the song was now playing and tears spilled from my eyes running down my cheeks. I used my free hand to wipe them away as I drew my nose up and continued pushing the pasta around.
I wanted this.. I wanted this.. I wanted this.
I didn't want the abuse though. I didn't want the control. I didn't want the pain. All I wanted was the money but it never came easy, nothing ever does.
I covered the pasta pot and moved onto getting the things I wanted from the fridge with pain forcing my face into an ugly scowl. I took them all to the dining table with the cutting board and sat there listening to music and dicing up vegetables.
I twisted the gauge on the stove turning off the flame with a satisfied sigh. I took a wide plate and started to share food for myself. Instead of pouring out some juice, I took the whole box. Now my only problem was making it back upstairs to lie down and watch tv while eating. I had to make two trips and the lazy in me was screaming.
