Happy Soulsilvershipping Day!
I Do Not Own the Characters Involved
Toxic
Neither of us knows what to do. She's curled up on the couch, hugging her knees. Auburn eyes once full of joy and purity are now bloodshot from all the tears shed. I'm across the room, lying back against the wall. Blood hardens on the back of my hand and on the wall behind me. The room we're in can only be described as a crime scene. Loose papers and books scattered on the floor, pieces of furniture flipped over.
I look at her, she looks back at me. All the yelling earlier has rendered our voices useless. There is nothing to say anyways. Our actions spoke louder than words will ever do. This has been building up for a while now. Our arguments kept escalating, nights are sleepless. We accuse each other off false rumors and in the end we end up brawling. Tonight was no different. It erupted in one quick motion. Then another. It wasn't until she made me bleed that I snapped.
I've been taught to never lay hands on a woman, but I was not about to be taken advantage of. Though I didn't strike her, I let her know I wasn't a pushover by grabbing both her wrists. Her eyes grew wide, body went rigid, fearful of what I'd do next.
Nothing…
It was only intimidation that worked, apparently. I dropped both hands and backed away. There's a limit when it comes to hurting the one you love, even to a person like me. I never had a decent childhood. The only way I knew how to express myself was through selfish actions, even if it meant hurting others. It has me asking myself, when will it stop? Why do we let ourselves explode in such violent ways, only to fall back on each other and do it all over?
We're insane masochist, there's no other word for it. Thriving with the pain we cause each other. Mental, physical, sexual pain, it's all the same. The blood in my mouth is proof of that. I don't mind getting a little scratched now and then, but I don't want it to escalate to the point where we severely injure one another.
She's fucking crazy. Then again, so am I. Despite it all, there's no one else I'd rather have. Her signature pigtails are undone, hairs messily strewn across her face. I catch her gaze, watermarks left their prints on her warm cheeks. Even in her pained state, she still manages to keep the innocence that I've come to love.
A smile creeps upon my beaten face.
Another on hers.
Here we go again…