Aria Anderson was only 20 and fresh out of college with a degree in choreography, Ballet, modern, jazz technique, and body conditioning. When she met Spencer Collins. A 25-year-old, theater choreographer. With a dark soul.
She thought she escaped h...
I didn't walk away from you. I dragged myself away from you. Then, I picked up my feelings And ran from you.
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He's gonna kill me. I know he will. But, what can I do? I'm too weak. I can't do anything right. If I did he wouldn't beat me. He loves me doesn't he? He'll be home soon and I'm terrified. What if dinner isn't right again? My hands were shaking the entire time. I sliced my finger twice. My heart rate increases as I hear the front door unlock. What do I do? I take a deep breath and back away from the stove. Everything was done but, it's never enough for him. I place my hands on the counter to steady myself. I hear his heavy boots hit the laminated tile floors. My entire body shook in fear. I glup. Trying to swallow the dry lump in my throat. He enters the kitchen and my eyes grow wide. He stood there with his hands in his pockets with a devilish scowl on his face. He doesn't say a word to me. He looked at the pot on the stove. He grabbed the handle so tight that his knuckles turned white.
"What the fuck did I tell you about pasta." He says as he looks at me from the corner of his eyes.
I gasp. Every time I looked into his eyes I felt like I was staring into the eyes of the devil.
"I said I was on a diet." He grunts out as he looks at me. "You stupid cunt." He yells out as he throws the hot pot at me.
I duck in time but droplets of the hot mac and cheese hits my skin.
"Bitch." He yells as he charges at me.
He grips my throat and squeezes tight as he slams my body into the cold wall. I struggle to breathe as hot tears stream down my face. My hands grip his wrist try to relieve the burning pain in my neck. I see his other hand draw back. Fist tightly closed as it meets my right eye. He draws back just to hit me again. A sharp pain radiates through my body as I feel blood trickle from my nose. My vision blurry. Mainly my right eye.
"You stupid bitch." He spats in my face as he bangs my body back into the wall.
My head hits the wall and this dizziness washes over me. He lets go of my neck and I slide down the wall gasping for air.
"I'm sick of your shit." He breathes out as he swings another punch.
This one was ten times harder then the last two combined. I feel the corner of my bottom lip slit open. I fall to the floor crying out.
"Why can't you do anything right."
He kicks me in my stomach and I yelp out.
"All you do is sit at home. While I'm slaving away a work. The least you can do is cook me fucking dinner."
Me being home was his idea. He claimed he wanted me to work on my craft. But he just wanted me to be his slave. My body jumps from another kick connecting to my chest.
