She sat on the cold linoleum floor, her slender finger outlining the red hot area just below her cheek bone. This never used to happen, not when they first started dating and not a year ago. Only recently had he taken to grabbing her roughly.
It started shortly after Trevor was born. He had a bad case of colic, crying all through the night. Lucas had left some time after 11, not able to stand the constant wail coming from their son's tiny mouth. He stumbled into the house three hours later, drunk. She had finally gotten Trevor to sleep when he slammed the front door shut. Of course, Trevor woke and began crying once more.
"Shut that thing up." Lucas slurred, pointing a stern finger at the infant that laid in her arms. When she rolled her eyes at him, he stumbled towards her and grabber her roughly by the arm. "Shut it up!" His words came out clear, no longer slurred by the drinks that he had consumed.
His hand shocked her, making her almost loose her grip on their son. His grip tightened and she could feel her arm start to go weak, her ring finger twitching slightly. The finger that held the promise ring he had given her 10 months ago. When he promised to stay by her, through everything, swearing that he'd love her forever and that they would get married someday.
"You're hurting me." she said weakly. She could already feel the spot under his strong cold hand erupt in heat. He looked her in the eye before squeezing hard once more and dropped her arm. She looked at her arm, the space already dark red, one spot near the middle already turning a light shade of black. By the next day there was a bruise, replacing the red spot on her arm.
After that night, the grabbing became frequent. Whenever Trevor wouldn't sleep, when Lucas lost his job, when they lost electricity, or whenever he had a few beers. He never hit her though, something that she was silently grateful for. Plus, it made her feel like she wasn't being abused. He was simply grabbing her a little harder than he thought.
"He doesn't know his own strength." She had told her friend when she pointed out the fading bruise on her arm. That's what she told herself too. Whenever she felt horrible about letting him grab her, she fed herself that lie because she knew he loved her and she loved him. Their love is supposed to be forever and nothing could tear them apart, not even this little speed bump of a problem.
She knows that the lie won't work now because he did hit her. This time, there wasn't an ounce of alcohol in his system, no 'I'm sorry' after he had done it. The only thing that she thought set him off was that dinner wasn't made when he got home, but if that wasn't it then there was no trigger.
She looked down at her leg, the bruise from the week before was already fading. It had reached the point where it was a mix of yellow and black, a slight tint of purple thrown in. She moved her hand down to her thigh where the bruise laid and outlined it. The bruise took no shape other than an ugly painful blob. Before she knew it, a tear started trailing down her cheek.
She let it get out of hand, it got too far. He didn't love her anymore. He didn't want to be with her and only found her and their son as dead weight. Their son. He had been crying in the room for the past half an hour. If it wasn't for him then maybe Lucas would still love her. Maybe this never would have happened. She would never have to hide the bruises, lie to everyone's face, lie to herself. It was all her little boy's fault that this had happened.
She cursed herself and Lucas in her head. She was ashamed that she had thought that. Thought of blaming her son, thought of how life would be great if he never would have been born. It was her own fault that this happened. She cursed Lucas for beating her down to the point where she thought of her son as a burden. Not only had he physically abused her, but it had gotten to the point where it started messing with her mental status as well.
The refrigerator started to hum softly behind her and she thought if she tried hard enough, she could block out any other sound she heard. That maybe if she concentrated hard enough, Trevor would stop crying, she wouldn't hear the sirens outside of their run down 2 bedroom home. If she tried hard enough, maybe she could transport herself back to 2005. Before she met Lucas, before she ever even thought of having kids. Back when she was a carefree 16 year old.
He was going to come back, and right now he was a loose cannon. She doesn't know what he'll do or how he'll act, the only thing she does know is she's scared and he isn't. She's scared of what he's capable of and what he'll do to her next, now that he's already hit her. Will he hit her harder next time? Will he hit her repeatedly until she's bleeding and bruised all over? Will he turn his attacks sexual to fulfill his own needs?
He's not scared because he knows that she won't do anything, and she wont. She isn't going to hit back, even though she knows she should. She isn't going to say 'Stop', or 'No', or 'Don't' because she knows it wont help. No matter what she says, he'll continue to hit her. He'll continue to hit her until he's reached his limit. Until guilt catches up to him or until he sees blood.
She can't stay here. She may be scared, but she can't let Trevor stay in this environment. She has to gather up the strength to stand, to get her son and get out of that house. But just as she gets up, she hears the front door slam. It's all about to hit the fan. She's stuck and she isn't getting out.
She closes her eyes tight when he walks into the doorway, a beer bottle in one hand, his other one balled up into a fist. She can smell him from her spot against the fridge, he wreaks of booze and smoke. He takes a swing from his bottle before throwing it to the ground, the glass breaking as soon as it hits the shiny linoleum. He brings his hand up to wipe his mouth and takes a step towards he. She keeps her eyes closed when he grabs her roughly by the arms. She doesn't know what he'll do next and she didn't expect him to lean down and kiss her. The kiss isn't rough but it isn't soft and she isn't sure how to respond.
"I'm so sorry baby." He slurred, falling down to his knees and wrapping his arms around her thin waist. "I'm so so sorry. I love you so much. I'm sorry." He's crying so much that it's soaking through her thin shirt. She isn't sure if it's all tears though, probably sweat and alcohol mixing in with them.
And when he says those words, she gives in. She remembers for a moment how he was before, the kind, caring man she once knew. She wraps her arms loosely around his neck, and leans down to kiss his greasy head. She knows she shouldn't do this, that she shouldn't take him back. That she should stand up for herself and get out of there tonight. But, she doesn't. She gives him another chance, another chance he isn't worthy of. She holds on to the microscopic thread of hope that he will return to the boy she fell in love with. That he'll turn back into the broody boy she once loved.
She already knows she'll regret it.