AN: Wrote this a while back, just thought I'd post it.
...
He loves me.
This is what I tell myself as he throws me across the room. This is what I tell myself as he towers over me. This is what I tell myself as he sends punch after punch into my cheekbone. He loves me, he only hurts me because he loves me. One day he's going to stop hurting me and we'll be happy again. It's not his fault, really, it's mine. If I'd just stop making him mad he wouldn't have to hurt me. He loves me.
I can feel the blood rushing out of my nose. I hear his laugh and I see his grin. I feel the ache in my face as breathes heavily, trying to calm himself. He gets up from the ground where he once pinned me moments before. "I love you," it comes out as a weak whimper.
"Yeah, love you too," he replies with a scoff.
He leaves the room with a slam of the door. I lick my lips, the taste of blood filling my mouth. I know he loves me. I know it.