A/N: inspired by an evanescence song by the same title . really dark. enjoy~
I tossed and turned in my sleep, the memory playing on my eyelids. My eyes snapped open and I stared at the blank white ceiling barely visible in the darkness. It had already been nearly a year since it happened, and I remember every detail no matter how much I wanted to forget. Every words whispered, every cry out, everything down to his scent.
You should have listened.
He had told me to obey, to just listen and enjoy. But I refused. He didn`t like that, not one bit. I never thought he would do anything bad to me, he was always such a gentleman. Slightly perverted at times and a little hands-on, but a gentleman never the less. Just a year ago we had been smiling happily. Laughing, teasing, drinking, partying, dating, loving, everything was perfect. Since when were memories so sharp in my mind?
I smiled at him, after a perfect date. The lights of France casting a romantic glow upon his face. His long blonde hair pulled back into a single ponytail, tied back with a black ribbon. His too soft looking lips had a faint smirk upon them, nothing out of the ordinary. The only thing that struck me as odd was he hadn`t tried anything that night. Until there, just outside his car. It wasn`t much, we had held hands on the way so I had expected the kiss. It was light, a simple reminder of love. His fingers stroked my arms lightly, that was also expected. He put his hands on my waist, and I was pulled against him, I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him deeply. He welcomed the gesture and leaned me against the car. I didn`t think much about the uneasily escapable position, after all he loved me and was always gentle. When he tried to feel me up, I was ready for that as well, pushing his hand away and back to my waist. His tongue overpowered mine, which I didn`t mind a whole lot and soon enough I turned my head away to not let it go too far. His fingers stopped at my wrist and pressure increased ever so slightly.
"What is wrong Mon Cherie? Don`t you want to kiss me?" He inquired, a slight seductive tone in his voice.
I had a soft smile upon my lips I knew it. I toyed with my ribbons, a birthday gift from him. "Non that`s not it." I felt out the door handle and pulled it, as his grip was making me uneasy. I slide into te back of that convertible and he did the same, sitting right beside me.
"Would you like some wine Mon amour?" He purred. I considered saying no but in the end all I did was giggle and nod. He professionally poured me a glass and rubbed his finger around the edge of it making a beautiful noise before handing it to me. I was concentrating on his face, his expressions, his movements so hard, I had no idea what had happened. But what seemed like suddenly, I couldn`t move. If this had happened over time I was unaware of it, perhaps it was because I was already slightly drunk before the wine topped it off. However it happened, once it did, I knew I was drugged. A smirk flickered across his face and a smile flashed his commercial white teeth, before he made any movements. I was already leaning against the door, so that wasn`t an issue. He kissed me tenderly before he struck me. It hurt, and the area on my jaw began to swell immediately. He kissed that spot which in itself caused pain. I wanted so badly to ask what he was doing, what was going on. I recalled just yesterday when he tried to go too far and he had said "Just relax and enjoy it mon Cherie, I'll be gentle." Was this the result of me still saying no? But he loved me how could he hurt me? I was violently pulled from my thoughts by another blow to the face. This time upon my cheek bone. I wanted badly to cry out, but I couldn`t tell if it was the drugs or being frozen in fear that kept me from it. I wanted to fight, to push him away, but I could only silently cry. My side received a bruise as well, and blood managed to penetrate the surface of my hip. He still removed my dress with care, running his fingers hungrily down my naked body. This wasn`t how it was supposed to be. We were in love. I loved him with all my heart. He loved me, I was his angel, his delicate flower. Yet here it was, my Cinderella scene gone bad. My lover removed his own clothes and leaned forward to whisper in my ear,
"Mon Cherie. I warned you did I not? Once I started I wouldn`t be able to stop. You really must stop teasing. You should have listened." I looked at him, tears in my eyes, how could this be the same man that had been treating me with such care, just an hour ago? My throat managed to make a small noise when he entered me roughly, and the tears streamed down my cheeks. He straddled me, and all I could do was look at his face, the moment being seared into my brain as it continued. He smelled of my perfume and French cologne, of wine, and spice. He somehow whispered believable words of love into my ear, somehow I believed them every time, just after he struck me. My body was already aching, and covered in bruises, but I still trusted those deep blue eyes, those just a shade too dark, just a bit too soft of lips. He leaned down from my ear and sucked slightly on my neck leaving yet more marks on my body. I knew this moment would be my most clear memory of him ,ever. I would never again dream of the sappy dinners, picnics in the grass, time spent alone beneath a tree, no. I would dream of this. The mind killing pain, the chilled fear, the cold of the night on my skin, yet his warmth on my body. I wanted to get away. I wanted to curl up and die at that very moment. My curiosity about what being raped really was like was regretted. All I wanted was to be away from the man that I still somehow loved so much. "You owe me. You love me, and I love you. You belong to me, and you know it." Were the last words uttered that night. I looked past him, past the locks of wavy golden hair, past the captivating eyes, into the night sky, where I prayed. I had never been that good of a Christian but now seemed like the first time I thought there really was no God. Still sobbing soundlessly, the prayer appeared in my head.
Why? What did I do to deserve this? What happened? Why, God Why?
Was all I came up with. I felt Francis` heartbeat against my chest. No other noises left my mouth since the first one, and they never did.
That was what I saw every time I blinked. I heard his whispers when I was alone. In the darkness I could feel his weight, his heat, his heart. His scent seemed to linger on my skin. My heart had grown hollow. I still saw him regularly. He still struck me. I was too terrified to leave him, too scared to tell anyone the truth. People asked at first what had happened. I never answered with the truth. I said simple answers like,
"Oh, I managed to get into a fight~" With a lighthearted smile, never letting people question me further. Eventually people stopped asking or maybe that was because I never left the house, unless I was to see him. Scars littered my once perfect body. My eyes always had dark circles around them from lack of sleep and they were always red from my constant crying. I couldn`t smile. I always knew he would want to see me again. I couldn`t stop him. It seemed I had no more ability to fight. He no longer had to use drugs I just sat like a pretty seashell knowing the more I fought, the more I would be beaten. My pictures of him remained, for visitors not to ask questions, not that I ever got any anymore. When I left the house, people near me stopped talking abruptly, or pointed and whispered behind their hands. I was used to that by now too. There were a few times I would know he was there. Just waiting for the times I seemed most worn down. Sometimes I could have sworn I woke up and he was there, in the corner waiting, but when I looked closer he never was. Time had changed, nothing was ever like it had been. Even on the sunniest day everything seemed to show up in gray and black, everything was depressing. Happy couples crowded around Francis and I sometimes, and I would cry and he would wait until we were alone to smack me for it, for drawing attention to us. I stayed close to him. I owed him everything. My life, my body, my heart. He owned it all. Every time I was in public I felt him there, when I was alone I knew he was there. He never showed himself, but it was like a sixth sense by now.
Exactly a year and three days from the "incident" he asked me to come over, something I had been avoiding for a year and three days now. I had been in the middle of crying when he called. He noticed.
"Mon amour, have you been crying?" His voice sounded concerned. It made me want to laugh. If I still had a soul perhaps I would have. That concern never existed, and I knew that now. Never the less, I silently approached his front step just a while after.
He opened the door with that playful smirk he had worn that night, on all the happy dates. Sending flashbacks though my head and I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to block out the images to no result. I took a deep shuddering breath. His hands on my waist he kissed me almost caringly enough. He gently brushed the bruises on my face with almost the right amount of concern. He then proceeded to whisper,
"Je t`iame Chelle." Almost lovingly enough. But it was short lived, so I didn`t have to change my mind. He grabbed the hem of my dress, and this time, I was the first to strike. Surprise caught him and the force whipped his face around. Turning slowly to look at me, I saw blood on his lip. The glare he held, was that of utter disgust. I glared at him, though not with equal strength. "Did you just lay a finger on me?" His unspoken insults and threats hung terrifyingly in the air. Before I could blink the back of his hand was across my face hard enough not only to spin my face around but to knock me onto the hard wooden floor. He was muttering but all I caught out of it was "useless bitch" and "ungrateful". It struck me that there was nothing to be grateful for. Even if I did owe him everything I couldn`t take it anymore. He came towards me. "Get up. " I simply sat and glared. "Get up God damn it." It was then of all times that I decided to check if there really was a God. He would save me. He would protect me, unlike the one I loved, standing before me. Then again, I had gotten this far without this so called God had I not? That is when I pulled out the gun I had hidden in my dress. There was one bullet in it. A Russian roulette type game was to be played. One of us was going to die that night it was only a question was which? Either way it would include less pain. First the gun was pointed at him…click. The expression on his face was of rage and a flicker of fear crosses his eyes. Then at me. I scrunched my eyes closed tightly, flashbacks more powerful this time. Click. Two chambers empty four to go. The gun returned to him, and curiosity took over his expression. I was crying again. Click. God if you really exist, save me from this cruel world. Click. Three down. Gun pointed to my temple again. I didn`t have time to pull the trigger before my hair was roughly grabbed by Francis.
"Damn it why must you insist on being crazy?" He screamed at me. He moved to grab the gun just a little too late. Or perhaps I pulled the trigger just a bit too soon. Click. My tears poured more. I had two more chambers before he took it away. I had no way of knowing he was going to use it. For the briefest of moments he looked at me. Not with the usual cold eyes. Not the lustful eyes I had grown to fear. His eyes showed realization. The ocean blue took me in, in one flick of the eye. A glare, a soft look, a glare, his expression changed several times before the gun was pointed to his own head. I heard myself scream. I never screamed in his presence. But I couldn`t help it. The sight of the man I loved no matter how much he hurt me, pointing a gun to his head, it was unbearable. Then gun then shifted positions and was once again pointed at me. It was a 50/50 shot that the bullet was in the current chamber. The trigger was pulled and the blast was earsplitting. I let my eyes open slowly, shaking like hell and letting the gun drop from my hand. However I managed to get it from him and turn it upon him, was unknown. But the pain it had to stop. He dropped to the ground at my feet, and I made it half a mile away before I passed out cold onto the sidewalk.
It has now been a year and a half exactly since Francis died. The bruises have all long disappeared. The scars remain, as a reminder of what once was. No one ever found out who killed Francis, perhaps no one cared to find out for sure. But I`m sure everyone knew it was me. No one blamed me anyway. They all knew what he did to me, they all hated him for it. No one talked about it and I still didn`t leave the house often. Now when I close my eyes, I see him falling to his knees, surprise apparent in his eyes. When I`m alone I hear him whispering to me, not words of love not words of cruelty but words of sorrow. When I`m in public I feel eyes on me, just like I used to, but not as strong. I know he`s still there. He has always been there. His name etched with a knife into my heart, the scars on me a constant reminder of what he did to me. My eyes seem lifeless in the mirror. My smiles halfhearted. I thought by getting rid of him, the void would be filled, instead I still felt hollow. I still felt like I had a terrifying secret. Which technically I did. Even at this moment, I feel his eyes on me, like a whisper of the past. No I`m not broken. I`m beyond that, beyond help, beyond love, beyond life. I felt myself cry for the last time this time filling each chamber carefully then double checking. The cool metal of the barrel pressed hard against my temple I clenched my eyes closed and pulled the trigger. My last breath was a gasp and a sob. My brain tissue was torn open and when my eyes opened, just as the black began to cloud my vision, I could have sworn I saw him, there, waiting, in the corner. Haunting me until the end of my days.
AN: i heard the song and had to write it. THIS TOOK ME ALL DAY so u better enjoy~ and reveiw