Beautiful
A/N: Hey everyone! This is my second fanfiction, after taking a short break from writing after finishing my first one 'Dream of Me' I am back with another amazing Hr/H fic, and hopefully you will all appreciate this one! This is a song fic, for the song Beautiful by Christina Aguilera. Which I do not claim to own. I also do not own any characters in this story…please read and review, even if you don't like it all that much, I would love to hear your opinion! Maybe things I can do to make it better…
-Chapter One-
…Everyday, is so wonderful
He makes me feel worthless, and dirty. He makes me feel like a slut, when I even look at another man. He tells me what to say when someone asks questions about the bruises that appear on my face daily. I use to ask him why I don't leave him, his abusive actions doubled whenever I say something about his way of living. I have tried running away from him, but he always finds me, and he always beats me after words. I try to forget the day before, when I wake up beside him in the morning, when his heavy breathing is the only sound in the room. The memories always come rushing back when I smell the alcohol in his breath. He stays at home during the day, well I go to work as a waitress at a small pub down the street from our house. When I come home at night, he asks the same question everyday 'did you talk to anyone?' when I answer no, he yells at me and beats me again for lying. There is no way to escape the life I live. Many girls tell me how lucky I am to have a husband like Viktor Krum. Of course, they don't see him through my eyes. They aren't treated like his dog, rather then his wife. Though, I never tell them that, I am instructed to keep my life and his as secretive as possible. He is always more worried about his image then he is of me.
I look over the rim of the newspaper as Viktor staggers into the kitchen, still probably drunk from the night before. I say nothing, never speak until spoken to, just like he told me the night before.
"Aren't you supposed to be at work?" He stares at me, as he pulls a beer out of the fridge.
"I don't work today, its Saturday."
I hold in a sob when I feel the sting on my cheek from his fist. I never cry, I don't want him to have the satisfaction of seeing my tears.
"It is not Saturday, you little bitch!" He snarls, he pushes my chair backwards, and I topple to the floor. I close my eyes tightly as he kicks me in the ribs.
"Stop it!" I shriek. His eyes are determined, I know he won't stop until I admit to lying. Until I admit to being his slut.
"You're a little bitch, aren't you?" He sneers down at me, as I clutch my stomach and glare at him through squinted eyes.
And suddenly, its hard to breath…I don't say anything, I just stare at him, with hate filled eyes. Again, I wonder why I don't leave him, why I don't run away and tell someone. I already know the answer, because he's everywhere.
"Get out of my sight, whore," he turns away from me, and goes to sit down at the table.
I quickly scramble to my feet, still holding my stomach. He probably broke a rib, he has before. The doctor asked me questions about it, but I refused to answer. Like I always do.
I slam the door to the bathroom shut, pushing the clothesbasket up against the door. We don't have locks on any of the doors, probably because he wants to be free to torture me with his curses whenever he pleases. I collapse on the cold tiled floor, leaning against the cupboards. I sigh heavily and stretch out my aching legs. I try to comfort myself, thinking he's drunk; he wouldn't act like this all the time. I know that's not true, he always acts like this towards me, after all… I am just his little bitch.
I stand up, opening the medicine cabinet, searching for painkillers, hoping that maybe the piercing pain in my stomach would become more bearable. I twist the cap off, and two tumble into my palm. I stuff them into my mouth, and swallow them down hard with water. I wipe the water from my mouth with my sleeve, and stare into the mirror. My skin is pale, a few freckles are visible, and dark lines surround my eyes. My lip is bleeding and my cheek is beginning to bruise. I am a grim sight; I have been leaving the house less and less. Only to go to work, and get a few groceries when he orders me to. Fixing myself up is hardly needed anymore.
I push the clothesbasket out of the way; I have been in the bathroom for over an hour. I open the door and step out. He's gone. He must have gone to Quidditch practise. He probably won't be home till late.
I walk into the kitchen, my feet padding against the sticky floor. It's a mess, glass is lying shattered on the ground, the tap is running, and soapy water is splashing out of the sink. A note with sloppy handwriting it stuck to the table.
Hermione,
Gone to Quidditch practise, won't be home till late.
Clean this shit pile up, and stay home today.
No need for question's about that bruise.
Love, ViktorLove? I have forgotten what the word means. He was once loving towards me, when we were still young, I was carefree…except for my lessons of course. When we got married, I was all of a sudden tied down. No longer free to do as I pleased, we had to work as a team…we had to love each other. The first two years went by, we were still happily in love. He was kind to me… he never hit me like he does now, he listened to my opinion's on things… and we talked about having children, and starting a real family together… I thought it would work, I really did. I loved him, and I had the impression that he loved me… or at least cared for me. I remember the first day he hit me to. I had come home late, he was drunk. I had never seen him like that before, so power hungry he beat me for his own pleasure…it was never the same since.
Now and then, I get insecure…
My throat feels swollen and dry; I can't have water until he's done. I try to ignore the pain, as he slams me against walls, kicks me, just to see me cry. It makes him feel superior, beating up his wife. Or, I think that's why he does it. That, or he's always just so damn drunk. Day in and day out, he does this to me, and day in and day out I take it. Never saying a word to anyone, never fighting him back… never denying his order's for me to go to bed with him. We are no longer making love, because we care about each other, we are making love because he told me to. It's more like rape now. I wish the old Viktor would come back, sometimes…I think he is back. Just by his gestures, sometimes, he even says he loves me. Or he skips abusing me for one night. Those are the reasons I don't kill myself. I try to keep myself going that way, he's not really a bad person, I just try to remember when his kisses were because he loved me.
I miss my friends, but I am no longer aloud to see them. I have to make up excuses to stay at home. I get letters from them on occasion, but I have to hide them from Viktor if I want to read them.
"Leave me alone, you son of a bitch," I hiss at him. I want to laugh at the look on his face; he seems a little to surprised. I want to take it back, he's going to hit me even more now. His lips twist into an evil sneer, he leans over and talks to me quietly.
"Don't ever talk to me like that again whore, I own you. No one else would want you, I am doing your sorry ass a favour," he grabbed the back of my neck roughly and slammed my face into the wall. I feel a stab of pain rush through my head; with each blow to the wall my pain doubles.
There is no way of stopping him until he feels the need to stop. God knows when that is. I want to scream, but what good would that do? It would only make him feel like he was getting somewhere. Make it all the more enjoyable.
He leaves me sprawled out on the floor, my head still aching and sore. A single tear trickles down my cheek, he has no heart…I know that, he is a monster. I have faced a great many things and have come through a winner, but this time I couldn't do anything. I was helpless and weak. There was nothing I could do to stop him. He was mad, he was insane, and I was his puppet for torture.
I bring my hand to my head slowly, rubbing my blood away from my face. "God damn asshole." I sigh, my life is so pointless, I would kill to get away from here, even if it was just for a day, so I could see my friends… see my mother again, after my fathers death, she hasn't seen much of me. I know she needs me, I need her so much as well. Escape is just my dream, its nearly impossible, he will always find me, and bring me home…and beat me. I hate him… I don't know why he doesn't just let me leave, he hates me to.
I stagger into the living room, lying down on the coach. I feel dizzy, I need to see a doctor. I'm not aloud though, since the last time. The doctor asks to many questions, that's what Viktor says. He always tells me I don't need a doctor, that I can do without. I doubt it. I still haven't quite recovered from his last few blows.
I am tired off pretending to be alright, I am tired of holding in my tears…sometimes its good to just cry. So that's what I did, I cried.
From all the pain…I am so ashamed…A/N: Hey everyone, this is my first chapter of Beautiful. Kind of depressing? Well, help is on the way ya'll, no worries! Please review and tell me what you think. I know this chapter may seem kind of short, but for me writing it took so long.