Chapter 1
It is a regular routine on the nights when the whiskey bottle is empty that he finds himself at your bedroom door. He doesn't even realize where he is until your face greets him from behind the door. And, when his piercing amber eyes meet your serene glossy ones, it's only a matter of seconds before he has his calloused hand wrapped around your throat and shoves you against the wall. The slamming of the door meets your ringing ears and his grip around your windpipe only grows tighter. His lips begin to dance about yours in an exotic tango only the two of you seem to know. You can feel your lips bruise as he bites down on them, occasionally drawing blood as your fingers entwine within his black tresses, making the kiss more desperate, passionate; more rough. He lets go of your throat just as your vision grows fuzzy and you are on the border of passing out, and that's when you feel his hand grip your hips and lift you up, your legs wrapping around his waist all too quickly as he grinds himself slowly into you; a whimper always leaving your lips. You never seem to notice though, how you get to your bed and how you find your clothes missing with a matter of minutes. But the thought is minuscule and is soon forgotten as his lips trail about your skin. Bite marks and bruises slowly decorating your body. He's always rough, yet you never seem to protest. You just lie there and take it; enjoying it as the line between pain and pleasure blurs and makes your head spin. It's usually a couple of hours before he leaves and saunters back to his room to pass out and eventually nurse the hangover he will wake up to, but for you it feels only like a matter of minutes. In the end you find yourself alone, body sore as the marks he has left on you become more evident while the sun shines through your window, lighting up your room. You're left in a daze, and the only traces of him left are the smell of gunpowder from his clothes on your sheets and the taste of cigarettes and blood he's left on your tongue.
So you close your eyes, sleep whispering in your ear while the muscles in your body extend and retract as you prod the bruises here and there. You know he will act as nothing has happened the next time you see him, and quite frankly you are alright with that, because you love him anyway.