Bruise of Love | L.S ✔

Misty Blue

Even if he had the best of shades and finest of memories, he still wouldn't do justice to him. To them.

Wouldn't do justice to the shared whispers, snuggled confessions and secret branding of lips on each other.

He couldn't erase the past and pain that laid over him, so instead he covered it all with his own promises of present and pleasure.

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I straighten my spine, the crack of it loud and relieving. The crumpled flower falls from my hands, crumbles like the sand castle under the insistent waves.

I curl my knees to my chest and begin softly,"The first colour was white. White symbolised the peace, it gave the idea that I was okay. I had my life under control. It showed that I was still untainted. It meant all the times my no was valid. That I was okay."

I scrub at my face, still eyes bleary and a lump in my voice.

My frame shakes with every inhale.

"After white came pink. Pink meant I had cried. Cried the night before. Pink meant strength. I wasn't strong enough to fight back, so I was pink."

I gulp down the tears. Harry fists his hands, repressing the urge to hold me close.

Ansel has a stony look on his face, cold and cruel.

"Then was green. Green meant the jealousy. The jealousy I'd feel when I would see couples being all lovey dovey. So when I gave into the green eyed monster and destroyed myself a bit, I was green."

My lips wobble, I bite them to stop wobbling. The corner of my mouth breaks out, tiny droplets of blood oozing out. There are the scars of my nails on my skin and the lack of self care on the lips of mine.

"Along with green came blue. Blue nights and hazy smoke. Blue meant the nights when we'd get high and I'd let myself be violated. For all the times when I was at an artifical peace, I was blue."

Fear claws at my heart, the feeling of numbness and paralysis. Too heavy bones to push him off but too much awake to feel every bit of it. It wasn't less of hell.

All the memories that broke me down to pieces were being laid out bare.

"Blue morphed into yellow. Yellow marks and amber liquids. Yellow marks signified that I was beat for using my right to say no. Amber liquids meant the drunken nights that only ended up in him beating me and me throwing up."

Harry is up and by my side. Just by my side, not touching or anything. Mute support, my shoulder to lean on if I'm unstable.

His fingers itch to touch me. I know that, I knew Harry better than himself.

I calmly point at my cup of cold tea, it looked like the left over paint water. Harry takes it away. His jaw tightens as he passes Ansel.

Ansel is yet to say something, deny it all. But no, he's still sitting in my flat, proud and being an A plus asshole.

I jeer at him,"Happy? Don't you love what you've made of me? Your little broken Princess. Broken beyond repair! How can you sit so comfortably in your skin knowing what you've made me?"

Harry intervenes before I can throw a punch or the whole chair at Ansel.

He digs his fingers to my shoulders. "Sit down, love. He's not worth it, remember."

Heavy sobs rip out of me, I bury them in Harry, the mewls, the helpless wails, the hopeless whimpers and the hollow cries.

"Yellow then changed to black. Black was for all the times he broke my trust in love. The broken promise of protection. I turned black when my body had been violated. I wasn't clean anymore. I bore these grotesque—" I tug the leg of my pajamas up to show a fading bruise. "—claims."

I wipe my nose with the back of my hand, quivering lips swallowing the tea.

"Black turned to purple. Purple patches left on my skin, the stain crawled up my skin like ivy. It latched onto me. Purple was the reminder of the painful nights. Purple wasn't the first emotion of love anymore. It was violence, it was abuse, it was tears muffled into pillows and screams drowned out by the shower."

"They mean apology," Ansel's voice speaks out.

At our pointed glares, he elaborates,"Purple hydrangeas mean I'm sorry or please forgive me."

Harry scoffs in disgust,"No wonder they're from you."

Ansel's eyes widen and he shakes his head in denial,"They're not from me. I wouldn't apologise like that."

Harry rakes his eyes over Ansel, a disparaging smile on his face,"You're a coward, Ansel Elgort. You're a coward to not apologise."

"Red is the breaking point of mine. The night before he raped me thrice. Even when I was screaming in pain, he used me. Used me and left me with pain and tears, making me feel cheap and dirty. Red wasn't love anymore, it was rage and hatred. It was the blood I had to wipe from my body."

Tears well up in my blues, the ocean had decided to wash away the constellations dotting my cheeks and replace them with broken pieces of myself.

The path paved for my regret. Red blooms on my cheeks as fat tears no longer held by the lashes drip down. The weight makes my entire being droop, it's an enthralling tragedy to get lost in.

Harry closed his eyes, face twisted in dolor, as if it's his heart which is being shattered like a window under the strong blows of a bat.

How could he not, when in a world of hopelessness, he found his other half, his twin flame.

His everything and nothing in one body and soul.

"I was red when I broke. Red when I kissed Harry Styles with sore lips and bruised soul. Red when he showed me safety and comfort. Red when he left me to worry about him. Red when I finally had a taste of freedom."

My voice crumbles and cracks,"Red when I admitted to myself that I'm not okay anymore."

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Soooo yes I updated. I love this story and am a sucker for feedback. Go ahead and throw your wadded tissues in the bin and wait for the next chapter.

Wrote it in an hour so point out any mistakes.