I don't own South Park…
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"It isn't an abusive relationship," he said, "It's just…Sometimes he gets mad, and sometimes I'm just…stupid."
That's what he said about you. You just get mad; that's all. It's his fault, and you're just upset. You can do those things to him, and it's fine because you're just angry and he just did something wrong. That makes sense, doesn't it?
Even if he says that, he still comes over to my house after every fight; with the beginnings of new bruises and the hues of old ones all across his chest, with the split lips and bloodied noses almost every day, with the stinging burn marks and whatever other kinds of marks you've colored him with. Even though he says it was his fault, he's still afraid of you.
He says you're going to get better! He says you promise every night, "Everything's going to be fine again. It's all going to be normal soon. I won't hurt you," as you hold him in your arms. You stroke his hair with the same hand that was pulling on it only a couple hours before.
He keeps saying he believes you. I tell him you're lying and that you're no good for him, but he says he knows you can do it. That's why he sticks with you. He wants to see the day that you recover. He loves you, and wants to see you come home one day and say, "I'm better now. It's all over." He wants to know that you're okay. He's given up so much for that.
But even if you keep saying it'll get better, it never has, and he's still had to live with you. He's still had to deal with you during your moments of rage, repeating in the back of his mind, "He'll get better, he'll get better, he'll get better. This is only temporary. He'll get better. He still loves me."
He's walked so often to my house afterwards, because you wanted him out so that you couldn't hurt him any more. He's walked here so often that I've told him to just call me so that I can pick him up. I've come to expect his calls.
I can't wait until you're better, because he deserves so much more than this. He's your punching bag, he's your shoulder to lean on, he's the one who cooks your meals and cleans your house and loves you, and he's the one who's trying so hard to help you get better. He's giving you everything he has, and you've given nothing back.
He's become even more fidgety and anxious than ever, because of you. He's nervous all the time. He flinches even from me occasionally, and I'll never forgive you for that. You've taken away his trust in people. I wonder what he'll be like after all this; I wonder if he'll be fine or if he'll still be scarred. I don't know if he'll ever heal after what you've done.
He's been drinking more coffee lately to calm himself—he's been drinking but not eating because he can't ever keep it down. He's lost a lot of weight, you know. But he says he'll be fine soon, once you're all fixed.
"Everything will go back to normal." He says, and he believes it. Everything will be just like it was the day you became a couple.
That day…had better come soon, because I'm growing anxious. I don't want him to have any more scars, I don't want him to be any more afraid, I don't want him to lose any more weight, and I don't want him to have to wait any more for the real you to come back. If you don't come back soon, you won't have him any more. He'll be gone, and it'll be all your fault.
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Just something I did on the spur of the moment. I know it's pretty bad, and I didn't get it proofread, but what the heck. Please tell me if you see something wrong with it, or any spelling or grammar errors~! C:
I'll be sure to reply if you review. 3