Silence. Silence, by God. The tiny house shook as he slammed the door shut, which made you sob all the harder. It was exhausting, being with him, and you weren't sure who was going to snap first.
He snapped often. That was the truth. But it was to what degree he snapped that was different every time. You could take a punch, you had- sadly- gotten used to those. And even the emotional beatdowns weren't as bad if you ignored them (which you didn't).
Your boyfriend was a firm believer in letting the punishment fit the crime. Girlfriend make food you didn't want? Toss it to the floor. Did she forget to take the trash out? Throw her beside it so she sees what she did wrong. It was as easy as putting a puppy through obedience training, except this little bitch still made mistakes.
You spent the next hour cleaning the floor, mildly grateful that the food had landed on the wood and not the carpet; that would have been a real mess. Eventually you stood up, having tossed away everything that had been destroyed before going into the living room.
The silence, pleasant at first, began to wear on you, pressing down heavily. You needed something in the house, some kind of white noise. Anything as a distraction from your thoughts. From memories. You grabbed the remote and turned the television on, not caring about what was playing and only wanting the background noise. It made you feel better. Almost like you weren't alone.
Almost.
(●)~
Half the day passed, and the house was spotless. This time you had taken a slow scan around each room, being careful about minor details. For the most part the house remained clean, but there were still certain things that needed to be fixed: the bedsheets, for example. He wouldn't have wanted to sleep on bloodstained sheets for two nights in a row, after all.
But now what could you do? You supposed you could have napped, and enjoyed the afternoon of peace and serenity, even drawing a little strength from it without your boyfriend around.
Actually, sleep sounds nice. My body doesn't ache too badly. I'll just have to get up before he comes home. Just... just maybe an hour or two I'll nap...
You weren't sure how long you had been out for, but the loud sounds startled you back into consciousness. It wasn't the sort you would have expected, either: the sounds were coming from the TV. Whatever had been playing was replaced with static, loud and oppressing in the small living room. Wincing you turned the volume down, frowning as the screen began to flicker. "Is this thing finally going to die?" you wondered out loud. It wasn't exactly a new TV, but it certainly wasn't ancient either.
The screen flickered rapidly, back and forth from the black and white static to all green, a violent color that seemed to clash with the rest of the house. It lit up the white walls with a dim glow with every flash.
". . . i . . . n . . . "
You flinched. What was that? Had someone been speaking? Had you inadvertently made a sound from the back of your throat, much like when your boyfriend choked you, which was often? The sound was strained and faint, lost in the white noise of the television's static. It was flashing more incessantly, as though the static was fighting against whatever the green color was trying to do.
". . . L . . . e . . . t . . . m . . . e . . . i . . . n. . ."
Your heart began to pound. No, this wasn't actually happening. Was it? There was no fucking way a whispery voice was coming from the TV screen, through the white noise. And most definitely not asking to be "let in".
