Why Don't We Imagines

Abuse | Jonah Marias

A/N - Just a warning, this one contains stuff like abuse. Do not read if this is a sensitive topic for you.

My shaky hands scrub at the plate with soapy water, then rinse it with cold water. I stack it with the rest of the now clean dishes and wipe my hands on the dishtowel by the sink. I'm walking back to my bedroom, when the front door is opened loudly and slammed shut so loud I'm afraid the plaster on the ceiling will fall. I jump and gulp, turning around to see my boyfriend, Darren, staggering through the living room. He manages to walk over to me without falling, the reek of alcohol coming off of his sweaty body making my eyes water.

"Y/N, what did I tell you about having dinner ready when I come home?" he slurs. I turn away from him, and continue on my way to the bedroom, not looking at him as I reply.

"I did make dinner, Darren. Hours ago. I had to throw it out because you weren't home to eat it." I open the door and finally look at him, standing there, chest heaving and a furious look on his face. "I'm going to bed. Goodnight."

"You little bitch! I'm the man in this house, so you'd better listen to me, or you know what will happen!" he shouts at me. My bottom lip trembles, but I keep my voice steady.

"No. You're not doing this to me again." I close the door and run to the bathroom, locking the door behind me. I slide to the floor, and finally let a tear slide down my cheek. I hate Darren, but every time I've tried to leave he hurts me, forcing me to stay. No one else knows about it, not even my best friend, Jonah. If he knew, he would be furious and probably come after Darren, but I know what he's capable of, so I keep my mouth shut.

I'm so lost in my thoughts for a minute that I don't hear Darren coming into the bedroom until he rattles the door handle loudly, yelling for me to open the door. I flinch away from the door, and shake my head.

"Darren, go away. I'm not doing this." I tell him, trying to stop my sobs from escaping. But he hears, even though he's drunk as hell and completely insane.

"What, are you crying now? I told you that the tears are for little babies. Are you a little baby, Y/N?" he asks me, his words still slurred.

"I'm not a baby! Fuck off Darren!" I yell, standing up. There's silence for a second, and the only sound I can hear is the blood rushing in my ears, and the pounding of my heart. Then he pounds on the door, and I can hear a key in the lock.

Shit. I forgot that he has the spare keys. I back away from the door, but he slams open the door and storms towards me, grabbing my wrist and pulling me out of the bathroom. I scream and try to pull my hand back, before he shoves me against the wall, his forearm pressed against my throat.

"Don't you ever swear at me again, you little bitch. Because do you want to know what happens when you disrespect me?" he growls in my ear. I shake my head, still crying.

"S-stop, please." I sob. He laughs cruelly, and then slams his free hand into my side. I fall to the floor, clutching my side. He picks me up by the collar of my hoodie and slams my back against the wall once more.

"If. You. Ever. Disrespect. Me. Again. I. Will. Kill. You." He accentuates every words with a slap or a punch. "Do you hear me?"

I don't answer, because Darren has knocked the wind out of my lungs. I gasp for breath, and he slaps me hard across the face. "Answer me, you little fucking bitch!" he screams.

"Y-yes. I g-get it." I pant, tears still streaming down my face.

"Good. Now clean up this shithole. I'm going out." He stalks out, slamming the front door of out apartment, so loudly that this time bits of plaster do fall from the ceiling. I let out a loud sob, clutching my ribs. Then I pull myself to the bathroom and stand up to look at myself in the mirror. And I hate the person I see reflected.