i'll be good // e.d

4. used to it

^song : used to/juice wrld

lana's pov

11:35 pm

ethan grant added you on snapchat

i picked up phone and stared at the notification

what the hell?

ethan grant is typing...

i unlocked my phone and clicked on the message

ethan grant ~ "don't mean to be overbearing or anything but I saw what happened.. earlier w daniel. i thought u guys broke up."

me ~ "yeah we did, it's no big deal don't worry."

ethan grant ~ "it's a big deal squish."

he hadn't called me that in forever. a weird feeling started stirring in my chest.

me ~ "it's okay"

ethan grant ~ "no, it's not."

me ~ "yes, it is. im used to it."

I regret pushing send

ethan grant ~ "you're used to it??"

i left him on read and returned to watching "bones" tossing my phone far away from me.
how are you supposed to tell someone your ex-boyfriend likes to think you're still his to control and he can push you around and hit you whenever he feels like it and has got your wrapped around his finger. I don't really think there's anyway you can tell someone that.

i really had no idea what to do.

a hot tear stung my cheek as i ran my finger along my bare fore arm feeling all the risen cuts and bruised areas from razors, finger tips and fists.

i don't really know why i let it get this bad.

*
"i'm sorry baby, please. it's literally nothing!" i shouted shielding my arm over my head as he swung punch after punch into my stomach and sides.

"it meant something now didn't it, i hate when you do that shit alana. I FUCKING HATE IT. you're such a selfish bitch!" his voice growled as he wrapped his hand around my throat.
*

all because i went somewhere without him

i was eighteen, we had been dating for six months the first time he hit me.

he would act so sweet and loving but then he would just turn on me. i was so scared and depressed i didn't know what to do. so, i just did nothing and it continued to happen.

it was a regular thing. 

i got more used to it and better at covering up scars, bruises, gashes and cuts. Some of those were self-inflicted though. i've never have been happy person; i was diagnosed with clinical depression when i was twelve, that's the cherry on top of this whole shit cupcake. i guess me being depressed and hating myself made the abuse not so bad at least i felt something right? it doesn't hurt as bad as it used to.

when he wasn't hitting me, he was loving and he would say sweet things, he was ultimately the person i fell in love with. after he was done making me his person punching bag, he always apologized and said how much he loved him and how much he needed me in his life and if i tried to leave, he'd kill himself.