Break Me Open
*This is a companion story to The World Spins Madly On, and something that has been on my head and heart since I started writing. I had several people ask me to write a chapter from Brittany's point of view, and I decided to do one better, and write a companion piece. It won't be very long, but it'll fill in some of the blanks, and allow everyone to see into Britt's mind and past in a way that The World Spins Madly On doesn't. I will continue to write The World Spins Madly On, however, I will write this story as well. This story is inspired by the song "Break Me Open" by Anna Nalick. Give it a listen if you so desire! The words in italics are song lyrics. Hope you all enjoy, let me know if you think I should continue!*
Chapter 1
"I break like a crystal cup, Into a million little pieces, but I pick me up. Don't just stare at me, take care of me."
I tried to stop myself from trembling as his fist came close to my head, whizzing past my face, missing by an inch. I grit my teeth as the verbal assault started, quickly escalating as his anger grew. I clenched my hands to stop myself from crying as he attacked me mercilessly with his words.
"You are so fucking stupid Brittany! You can't do anything right! I don't even know why I settle for you. Your cooking is shit. Your daughter is as stupid as you. You can't even clean the house properly! Sometimes I think I should just dump you and that little brats bodies on the street and see if you can survive without me. I swear, you fuck up just to piss me off." His fist cocked back again, and this time he hit me.
Stars exploded in my vision, and I struggled to keep down the food that I eaten that day. My body shook as my stomach tried to settle, and my head pounded like a jackhammer. Fear coursed through my body, reaching all the way down to my toes.
His fist came back, this time at my stomach, and I couldn't stop myself from vomiting all over the floor. He jumped back, screaming in disgust and anger as the vomit touched his shiny black shoes. He kicked me as I lay on the floor, his face outraged and distorted as he screamed at me. "You fucking bitch! You better clean all of this up Brittany. If I find even a drop of it left when I wake up, I'll make you regret it."
He retreated, his footsteps echoing in the halls of this hellhole. I stayed on the ground, closing my eyes, wishing, and hoping that when I opened them, all of this would be gone.
Instead, I opened my eyes and it was all still there. The smell of my vomit pricked my nose, and made my stomach roll again. I take a deep breath to steady myself before picking myself up off the floor, and limping to the kitchen to get the mop. I had spent the whole day cleaning, waiting for Chris to come home and see what a good job I did taking care of his house for him while he was at work.
But, he had come home in a temper, and had complained about everything. He snapped when Taylor spilt her milk all over the kitchen floor, and had pushed me up against the wall as his temper took over. I waved a hand at Taylor, and she ran out of the room on my command, glancing over her shoulder with huge eyes as he pinned me up against the wall.
Now, as I cleaned up the vomit, I couldn't help but allow the shock of everything to set in, and I collapsed on the ground, my whole body shaking. He had been the best boyfriend, and was so loving towards Taylor and I when we started to date. It all changed when I moved in with him. It started with yelling, and name calling. He would apologize right away after he yelled, and would sometimes buy me presents, as if it would take away the sting of his words. Then, he turned his words on my daughter, and I tried to stand up to him. He had turned so quickly then, hitting me, kicking me, spitting on me. After his abuse, he would tell me that I made him mad, and I had to be a better girlfriend. He would blame me, or Taylor, and he never said it was his fault.
A part of me believed him, that it was my fault. I wasn't the best in the kitchen, and I ruined a lot of the food he bought for us. I tried my best to clean, but he would find dust in places that I never thought to clean. Sometimes I wouldn't do anything wrong, and he would turn on me still.
I slowly got back to my feet, putting away the mop before silently going to the door of my daughter's room. I opened the door softly, sighing when I saw that she had left the light on, and was under the covers. I tiptoed to the bed, and pulled the covers down, looking at my daughter as she slept. She looked so much like me that it sometimes scared me. It was almost as if she had no father, and was made just by me. Her hair was a beautiful white blonde, and her eyes were the same shade of blue as mine. She was so much smarter than me though, and had a kind, gentle heart.
I sigh then, and lay down beside my beautiful daughter, smiling as she shuffles close to me in her sleep. I wrapped my arms around her then, holding her close, breathing in her smell as I tried to allow myself to drift into the same peaceful sleep Taylor seemed to be lost in.
Instead, I find myself thinking of HER. I try to shake my head, making myself forget about her. I don't want to think about the gentle soft touches, and the smell of cinnamon, and her kisses peppering my body. I don't want to think about her honey smooth voice and her breath on my neck. But I do, and I know there is no escaping her. She is in my veins, clinging to me as she courses through my heart, fueling me, and coursing through my body. I have tried, in the years since she left, to forget her. But I can't escape from her, and sometimes I'm almost glad. She is sometimes the only good thing to think about in my day, especially on days where Chris is mad.
So I close my eyes, and let myself drift into a dream, allowing myself, if only for a night, to think and believe that she is back, and that she loves me. I sigh as she takes me in her arms, before falling into a deep sleep, nestled in the arms of the woman who loved me in a way that no one else ever has.