Pain
I stumbled home, everything covered in red haze. I blinked twice, trying to get rid of the odd color. This is worse than all the other times...
I pulled open the back door slowly, hoping desperately for my mother to stay asleep. Stay asleep, Mom. Least you could do..
Balancing precariously, I took one step at a time up to my room. Then I struggled to my bathroom, peeling off my bloodstained clothes and turning the water on, nice and hot.
When the mirror was fogged up enough so I couldn't see, I stepped into the shower, grimacing as the hot water hissed on my skin. My blood drained off of me, flowing over my arms and legs and torso down to the drain. I stuck my head under the shower head and relaxed as the water pounded, massaging my aching muscles.
After I got out of the shower, I walked up to the mirror, rubbing the fog away. Inside, a stranger stared at me. She had blond hair and sunken green eyes. Bruises dotted her neck and chest, all over her shoulders and arms. Cuts were scattered here and there, mostly on her torso.
I sighed. He must've been really drunk...
I held back tears and pulled on big baggy clothes, a turtleneck over my t-shirt. I couldn't risk anyone seeing those. I climbed into bed, pulling the covers all the way to my chin. My dreams will be filled with red haze tonight.
Truth is, my boyfriend, Nick, he gets drunk a lot and beats me. We're always in a farm, or in the forest, or at his house when his dad isn't home. I don't blame him though, he always apologizes after. And then he promises to never do it again. But he always does. I don't mind, he has a minor problem with alcohol, and I'd do anything to help. Even if helping means cowering in fear as he whips me with his belt, or when he's spreading hickies all over my body. I always go back. I always do. I don't know why, maybe I like it.
Maybe I like the pain.