This story contains abuse. If that bothers you please don't read it.

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The first thing I listen for is deep, even breathing from behind me. I count to two hundred to make sure he isn't aware of my consciousness. I don't bother opening my eyes yet, I need to take an inventory before moving.

My right wrist is stiff, a possible sprain that I'll have to assess more thoroughly. My jaw is tender when I press my cheek to the pillow and after flicking my tongue out I can feel dried blood on my lip. I carefully tense and relax my muscles methodically down my body, testing for any breaks. When I take a deep breath my ribs protest but I can tell they're only bruised. Nothing that will send me to the hospital. I blink open my eyes in surprise. He was drunk last night and no broken bones? I might have to write it down on the calendar.

I smile humorlessly into the bedroom, empty but for me and my . . . well, him.

It takes me about five full minutes to get out of bed, the process made all the more difficult because he insists on sleeping with me wrapped in his arms. To prevent escape through the night no doubt. As if I haven't learned that lesson thrice over. My limp isn't too bad as I head towards the bathroom across the hall, not sparing a glance at the older blond sprawled between the blood-stained sheets.

I decide to break my own rules this morning and look at myself in the mirror. Dark purple splotches as well as a few barely visible yellow ones scatter across my pale skin. My face is still recognizable as me. The only blood I can see or feel is the small amount on my lip. Dare I hope he is learning restraint? Another mirthless chuckle. Hardly.

My blond spikes still flare off to one side and as I step closer I watch my cold, dead blue eyes glare at the doppelganger reflected back. I huff in disappointment. Who else was I expecting? Get over it Roxas.

I rack my brains to try and remember where he left the orange in the old grey tube sock, while I finally shower off last nights activities. It's not too often that he drinks, once or twice a month he'll be wasted beyond reason, because once drunk he forgets little things like hiding the evidence. When sober or at least mostly sober he knows to use the orange, or a bar of soap if I haven't been to the store recently. If Jack Daniels were still around I'd personally put him six feet under. I haven't ever had the opportunity to be drunk so I can't say what drives him into those horrible rages once the alcohol hits his system. I don't think I could ever bring myself to try the stuff after the last year anyway.

A loud bang on the door startles me and I shrink away instinctively. It opens a foot and he pokes his head through, bleary red eyes and his mouth turned down in a frown.

"Why haven't you brought me any pills yet?" Seifer growls at me, making sure to keep his volume low.

Of course, how stupid of me to assume he'd sleep another hour through his hangover. I should have done that first before bothering with the damn shower.

"I'll get them." I whisper and wrap the towel tighter around myself.

He snaps the door shut and I hear him pass back into the bedroom. Taking a few deep breaths I hurriedly finish drying my hair and bolt downstairs into the kitchen. In less than two minutes I'm tiptoeing into the bedroom with painkillers and a glass of water balanced in my hands. Seifer has burrowed back under the covers, so I set the items on the nightstand and make a quick retreat out of arms length. Not a split second before his hand would have snatched me in an iron hold.

"Get over here." Seifer mumbles.

There are no expressions on his face that I fail to find intimidating. He could mouth words with no audible tone and I would still be wanting to run in the opposite direction. Where some people might be comical once awoken from a hangover, on Seifer it merely makes him more unpredictable. I steel myself and move forward to sit next to him on the bed. The taller blonde takes a moment to down the pills and set the glass back before turning to me.

"What did you say last night?" He asks quietly.

I responded too loudly for his ears to take one morning after he had been drinking, I couldn't walk for three days. I flex my fingers around the damp cotton over my thighs and keep my eyes on the floor.

"I asked if I could go to Sora's house." I whisper with no inflection.

My voice sounds less lively than a zombie. I wonder for a second if that should worry me before instinct takes over and I turn my focus back onto the dangerous unknown next to me.

"Stupid." He sounds almost amused.

"I'm sorry." I say without meaning.

Seifer likes to blame me for the beatings, I always deserve it for something or another. While sober he lets me have just enough rope to hang myself with, like asking to go to the movies if we're already out running errands and I think he's agreeable. If he's drunk it could be anything to fixing the wrong thing for dinner to merely being in the same room. I've stopped bothering trying to avoid the inevitable. If I had realized when he came home how intoxicated he was, I would never have opened my damn mouth. He usually didn't drive drunk so it was unexpected, but that was no excuse for my actions. This time I really did deserve it.

"Do you need the hospital?" Seifer asks carelessly.

In the next moment he's shoving me off the bed so he can lay down comfortably again. I catch myself on my hands on knees instinctively. It took one broken nose to learn it's better to sacrifice a hand or wrist than your face. The small impact makes my bruised wrist ache and it settles the question of a sprain.

"No." I rasp out.

He grunts in acknowledgment before rolling over. I turn my head to see the back of his and gladly envision it being blown apart by one of the guns my uncle owns. That happy thought gets me up and dressed stealthily before I leave the room, pausing only to retrieve the glass and gently shut the door. I get a roll of ace bandages out of the medicine cabinet and carefully doctor my wrist. It's unfortunate that it's my strong hand but I've dealt with much worse.

I whip up a quick breakfast knowing he'll expect to have food ready when he wakes up. I throw a plate of biscuits with gravy, bacon and a glass of orange juice together for him to have later. I scarf a quick bowl of cereal for myself thinking over our dialogue this morning.

He hadn't explicitly told me no when I asked to go to Sora's, so this means I'm allowed out of the house today. I text my brother that I'll be over shortly, first I need to put some makeup over my face. The woman at Wallgreens probably thinks I'm a cross dresser at this point, nearly half my sparse paycheck goes towards cosmetics. It's necessary to hide any bruises or visible markings. I always put foundation on to conceal the bags under my eyes as well as eyeliner to draw attention away from how thin my face is.

I make a close inspection of my face, making sure the makeup itself isn't noticeable either. Sora probably wouldn't pick up on the foundation but one or two of his roommates are always hanging around and they are more observant than I care for. I glance over my outfit and my exposed arms and hands. Besides the wrap, there is no evidence of anything wrong. I run over my list of excuses, what haven't I used for a while? I run through the possibilities while I finish getting ready and get in my car.

The only reason I even have my own transportation is because our parents gave us both a car when we started college. It wasn't new by any means, but it got me where I needed to go. A skateboarding spill is very plausible and one that I haven't used for ages, except they might want to see if my knees are scraped. Being shoved off a two foot high bed onto carpet doesn't exactly inspire the same scratches that a fall at speed would on concrete. Then I remember that it rained yesterday. Perfect.

I don't bother knocking on the front door at Sora's. He lives with four other guys so the place gets treated like a communal living house. Their friends come and go as they please as easily as Zexion, Tidus, Cloud and Leon do. I spot Sora immediately, he's on the couch playing a two player game against Tidus. How those two ever got into a house with three stoic and quiet tenants is beyond me. Both of their default personalities are loud and annoying most of the time, although my fellow blonde is much more whiny than Sora.

"Hey Roxas!" Sora shouts from the couch.

I wave at the other occupant in the room and settle myself on the floor next to Sora's legs. My eyes follow their progress on the TV but my attention goes out to the rest of the house, trying to see if the three I need to look out for are home. I don't see any signs of them immediately, but those three rarely make noise so I don't drop my guard. After a few rounds Sora wordlessly holds the controller out to me to challenge Tidus. Without thought, I reach out with my right hand.

"What did you do?" My brother asks instantly, eying the ace wrap.

I curse to myself in annoyance, if I had been more careful he probably wouldn't have noticed.

"Slipped in a puddle yesterday." I lie with a shrug.

"I thought he was the clumsy one?" Tidus asks jerking a thumb in Sora's direction.

"Hey!" Sora laughs as I glare at my opponent.

"I didn't think it had rained hard enough yesterday to produce puddles." Zexion says thoughtfully while crossing the room into the kitchen.

I will myself to keep a straight face. I know I'm a good liar if they can't see my eyes and the older man is rooting through the cabinets in the other room.

"Yeah, there's that big dip off the corner by the shop. I usually forget it's there." I deadpan.

They are used to no better from me. I can't remember the last time I spoke with an emotion besides fear or pain lacing my voice. If it wouldn't arouse his suspicion I would ask Sora, since I was mildly curious myself. My brother isn't that stupid however, and he would realize something was wrong if I was careless enough to point it out.

"Does it need to be set right?" Leon asks strolling into the room and dropping onto the recliner.

His girlfriend Aerith is a nurse and would no doubt be willing to take a look at my sprain. I really didn't need extra attention being brought to my every injury and by now I was more than capable at bandaging my own wounds.

"Nah, it's fine." I say and toss the controller to the other brunette.

Leon doesn't push the issue, he just clobbers Tidus without effort and the blonde's remote goes to Sora. It goes like this the rest of the afternoon, we're eventually joined by Cloud as he gets home from work, his schedule is more hectic than anyone else. We order take out and fight over Chinese versus Italian. For just a few hours I am able to forget how miserable my life is. This is why I live for the weekends, when I am allowed out of the house, without which I would surely lose the rest of my already limited amount of will to live.

It's not that I consider suicide, rather it's a lack of care whether or not I get hurt. It's only become increasingly frustrating and anxiety ridden to try to hide the truth about my relationship. I am not a fan of pain, I've just become very used to it. I flinch when others move quickly near me and it's not that I fear them, rather I've been programmed from repeated actions. My body automatically reacts with no input from me. I can't quite hide the twitch I give when Sora hugs me goodbye on my way out.

I glance over his shoulder and catch Leon's concerned gaze. I know I'm running out of time before someone connects the right dots. Seifer won't treat this lightly. Intellectually, I know I could tell my brother and his roommates what has been going on and they would take me in without question. I know that and still do not act on it. Why?

I struggle to answer this enigma on my way home. I don't love Seifer, as many victims claim of their abusers. I shudder and snap at myself for using that word. It solves nothing. If it isn't care for him then why do I stay? I know I could find a better job somewhere full-time so I could contribute to the rent at Sora's place. They have a futon I could sleep on and I don't own many things. I wouldn't even have to call the police or file a report, though I know the others would try to persuade me to.

Seifer would be no match against all of them. I haven't tried to leave before so there's not even a guarantee that he would come after me. So why the hell don't I leave? It's not possible I enjoy this treatment, that would be a real mindfuck if I did. I know I don't need to be committed. I rip up the e-brake rather forcefully in frustration. I glare with confused eyes at my front door. Was I afraid of being alone? I suppose that's more likely than the rest of it. How pathetic.

I slam the door unthinkingly as I cross the threshold and am immediately slammed back into it. I pant quickly and glance up at his angry face.

"What have I told you about your anger?" Seifer breaths in my face.

Luckily I smell no alcohol on his breath. He seems fully sober, merely very pissed off. Only I could make him mad even without my presence. Well, everyone has to be good at something.

"Sorry."

I hate how weak my voice is. If my lover is anywhere in my vicinity my voice box loses half of its volume. I'm lucky it didn't crack. Highly embarrassing if we are playing the charade of a 'happy couple' in public.

Without another word he leans forward to pin me with a harsh kiss. I open my mouth and let him have his way, I have long since stopped putting up a resistance. I can sometimes forget in the wake of my fear if he's drunk but I usually retain enough thought to know he's gentler if I don't fight back.

He takes a firm grip on my arms to bring me with him as he heads towards the couch, it isn't tight enough to bruise which is nice. He shoves me down and continues to assault my mouth and starts removing my clothes. I let myself drift away from my current situation, he even seems to like the vacant look left behind in my eyes. I try not to think about what that means.

Afterwords, he leaves me alone and goes upstairs and I can hear the shower start. He works evenings and I know he won't be home until late tonight. All the better for me. I gingerly stand up and wince at the pain in my lower half. Even sober, Seifer likes his sex rough and unfortunately has a lot of stamina. My limp is more pronounced than this morning as I hobble into the downstairs bathroom to clean myself up a bit. Once done I throw my clothes back on and sink back onto the cushions. I let my eyes slip closed as I wait until he's safely out of the house again.

I don't understand why people always claim that batterers escalate. Seifer has treated me the same since we started dating. The only time it gets worse is if he's been drinking, otherwise it's the same old routine. They need to quit scaring people with that crap. Sure I've had a few broken bones but he's never come at me with a knife or something crazy. I sigh to myself, thinking I might nap once he leaves.

"Roxas." Seifer rarely says my name so I snap to attention, startled.

He's standing over me with a contemplative look.

"Yes?" I ask nervously.

He grins slyly and bends down to grab a fistful of my hair and uses his grip to yank me to my feet. I can't help but squeak in pain. I haven't done anything wrong! I didn't even flinch when he raped me earlier!

"I'm gonna be bringing a friend home with me tonight. He's an old friend I haven't seen for years so, you better to nice to him okay?" Seifer says with a glint in his eye.

I can guess at his meaning and heave a sigh to myself. Here I was thinking he wouldn't be one to share me with someone else, as this is a first. Oh, well. I nod as best I can within his grasp. He lets my hair go then backhands me across the face. I fall back onto the couch with a whimper.

"I asked if you understood." Seifer says with a huff of impatience.

"Yes, okay." I agree quickly.

"Good."

He marches out the door and pulls it closed softly, reminding me to always treat his things nicely. It was his house after all. I go into the kitchen to get an ice pack for my face. I'll have to apply more makeup before he and his 'friend' get home tonight. I'm definitely going to take that nap now . . .

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This isn't meant to criticize, instruct or in any way make a negative comment on those involved in abusive situations. I wrote it purely for entertainment, however dark that may be. I also deliberately didn't finish it for a reason. It takes people a long time before they're ready to admit things, and Roxas isn't there yet. This is more a look at his regular everyday situation that won't be changing anytime soon, minus that Seifer has started to 'share'. Plus I never kill my characters off, that bugs me. Nope, not writing a sequel either.