Olivia

Once I had reached my bedroom, I laid back on my bed and allowed my thoughts to wander. I needed to sort through the mess that was my brain because I knew all too well that an overcrowded mind was not good for anyone.

So Phil liked Dan and Dan liked Phil. Right, okay. Dan knew Phil liked him, Phil thought Dan hated him. Dan was coping with the sorrow reasonably well, he was remaining strong. Phil, not so much. Phil has cut his wrist because he couldn't deal with all the emotions building up inside him. Phil didn't know about my old scars. No one did. I tried to make Phil understand that I felt the general emotions he did without actually letting him know about my horrific past. He didn't understand the butterfly therefore he was left extremely confused and feeling alone. Great job, Olivia.

Okay, so the general Dan-Phil situation was somewhat handled inside my mind. Now to move on to the darker things.

Zach was not at all happy with me for being friends with Dan and Phil, let alone living with them. So I could either let both the boys go and let them deal with their problems on their own to save my lifelong friendship or keep my new friends and help them through the tough time and sacrifice the only person who had ever understood me. Great. I don't particularly want to do either.

And then my thoughts unwillingly wandered onto something I didn't want to think about. Ever.

I had told Dan that I hadn't had a partner since I rejected my friend. Well, that wasn't entirely true. I had had one relationship, but I never count it as I want to forget about it. Why was probably the worst question to answer. And, of course, I fell asleep while thinking about me into the worst nightmare/memory I'd had since the actual incident.

I don't even remember what we were arguing about. All I remember is the look of pure loathing and fury that filled his eyes. I knew that whatever I had said was a huge mistake.

I had been with him for just over two years now, and during that time, I had received about five beatings per month. I still wasn't recovered from the last one, and now, seeing the look of hate and uncontrollable anger in his eyes, I knew I would receive another.

No. Not this time. I was sick of his shit.

I wouldn't let him take me down this time. I dodged the cup that he threw at me and heard it smash on the wall behind me. I felt a sharp pain in my calf, telling me a shard had dug itself into my skin. I straightened my spine and looked him in the eye with what I hoped was confidence.

Oops.

He striding towards me with his arms outstretched as if he was intending to strangle me. Fear started building up in my chest so that I felt that I might explode into sobs and screams. But I tried to stay strong, at least on the outside. As he came closer, I lifted my hands above my head. When he came within arms reach, I brought my elbows down into his, making his arms buckle. I latched my hands onto the back of his upper arms and dug my fingernails into the back of them. I narrowed my eyes at him and tried out my soul-piercing stare which I had been practising. It worked. He turned away from me and cringed.

"Try this crap on me again and I swear to god I will call the cops," I told him, "I don't care if I love you more than I have ever loved anyone else. I don't care if I have nowhere to go after this. The negatives of being with you definitely outweigh the positives, and I'm sick of this shit. Go ahead, beat me to the ground. One of these days I will see you screaming, crying and bloody on your knees in front of me, because I'm tired of it being the other way round,"

I threw him away from me with all the strength I could muster. He looked at me in shock and confusion for just one moment, but that was quickly replaced by the familiar look he gave me. The one where he looked at me as if I was the most horrible thing his slimy imagination could come up with.

Okay, maybe I took it too far.

Oh well.

I put my hands on my hips and death-stared him, daring him to try it again.

What the hell was I thinking?

He started taking long, aggressive strides towards me once more. I stood there, completely still, watching him. When he came close enough, I lowered my body until me head was level with his chest, and, in the same second, sprang back up, slamming the top of my head into the bottom of his jaw. He grabbed at his chin, staggering backwards. I took the opportunity of him being stunned to quickly walk forward, put my hands on his shoulders and bring my knee up in between his legs, quickly stepping back, out of his way. He cried out in pain, bending over and grabbing at his crotch. While he was in that moment of pain, I ran forward and put both of my hands on his head so I could bring up my knee once again, only this time, it was so I could smash it against his forehead. At this, he fell to the ground, cradling himself. One small part of me felt triumphant, but the rest just wanted to burst into tears, hug him, kiss him, and tell him that I loved him and that I was sorry a million times over.

Unfortunately, I knew that wasn't an option this time. So I turned my back on him and started towards our bedroom to prepare a suitcase for myself so I could get the hell out of there. But I stopped at the door. I stopped at the door because it was in that moment that I started to break down. I felt horrible. With every blow I had given him I felt like a disgrace of a human being for doing that to the one I loved. It was only later that I realised he had been doing worse for a lot longer and not been feeling anything except joy. I heard him stir behind me, and took a wild guess at what he was going to attempt next - and my guess was right.

I stayed there, perfectly still, pretending to be still breaking down. I felt his arms wrap around my middle, attempting to capture my arms to my sides so he could throw me to the ground and beat me like he had done so many times before. I say "attempting" because barely a second after I felt his cold touch, I dropped to the ground, making him grab at nothing and fall to the ground. I quickly scuttled away, getting to my feet as soon as I was out of his reach. I ran for the door. Screw getting clothes and such. If I had stayed there any longer, he probably would have murdered me.

I ran out of the house as quickly as my legs would carry me, not resting for a second. I jumped into my car and started it up. I always left my keys in the ignition, because the doors didn't lock anyway. I took off down the street as fast as the speed limit would legally allow me to go. The whole car ride there I could do nothing but sob uncontrollably, disgusted at myself for what I had done to him. I loved him. Who cared if he beat me every now and then? He had his issues, and I had to love him unconditionally, no matter what was wrong with him. But no, stupid me had to go and hurt him. I hated myself and I wanted nothing better than to go back there and love him and cradle him until he was better.

Instead, I drove my ass all the way to Zach's place.

As soon as I arrived, I pushed the doorbell more times than necessary, knocking on the door at the same time with my other hand. Zach was at the door in a matter of seconds, an amused look on his face. But once he had taken in my current situation - my flooding eyes and snotty nose - his expression changed to love [friendly love, of course] and desperation.

"Livvy!" He cried. He ushered me inside and swiftly closed the door behind him, leading me to the couch where I curled up in a ball as a fresh batch of sobs came on. Pretty soon I had makeup running down my cheeks and I was gasping for air because I was crying so much. Though all this, Zach stayed by me, not saying anything, just holding me until I stopped crying. After a few minutes of peaceful silence, he pulled away to look me in the eye.

"Stay here, I'm going to make you a cup of tea, okay?" He said softly, "Then we can talk about what happened."

And so he left for the kitchen to make my tea while I sat there hugging my knees like the worthless pile of pelican shit I was. How dare I do that to him? What did he ever do to me? How could I be so mean? Sure, he beat me a lot. But he had problems, why couldn't I have just gotten him help? I hurt him. I hurt him so much. What kind of stupid excuse of a human was I? A few silent tears rolled down my cheeks, and I looked up to see Zach coming in with my cup of tea and seating himself next to me. I took it gratefully, and, after a few sips, he looked over to me.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

No.

"Yeah, I guess it would be better to get it off my chest,"

And so I told him. I told him everything from my first beating to what I had just now done. Zach stayed very still throughout my story, drinking in my words. When I was finished, he just looked down into his lap as a stray tear made it's way down his cheek.

"Why didn't you come to me the first time?"

His words hurt me. He's right, why didn't I?

"Because I thought it was a one time only thing, but, then again, that's what I thought after every beating. That there wouldn't be another. But there was. There always was,"

He sighed, "So, what now?"

I drew a deep breath. I had given this a lot of thought, and I thought I had finally come up with a plan.

"Zach, I'm sorry, I don't want to leave you, but I can't stay here. I don't want him hunting me down. And so," I breathed deeply once more, "Zach, I want to move to London. I want to get as far away from him as possible,"

Zach froze, but didn't give any outward expressions. Finally, after what seemed like hours of him processing what I had said, he replied.

"I'm coming,"

"What?"

"You have ears, woman. Use them. I'm coming with you to London,"

I stared at him in disbelief, "Zach, you can't just give up your life to follow me to London just because of my stupid little prob-"

"No, Olivia. This isn't a stupid little problem. This is a very huge, very serious problem. If you're leaving Australia to get away from him, then I'm coming with you to protect you,"

"Zach, you -"

"No. I'm coming with you. End of discussion,"

Though I knew deep in my soul that he shouldn't join me, I smiled. He really was the best friend I could ask for.

"So when do you want to leave?"

"Next week,"

"Zach! Are you sure? That's awfully soon,"

"I'd rather leave soon than take the chance that he hunts you down and gets you. So until we leave, you're staying here and you're not going anywhere without me,"

I laughed at him, "Zach, you don't have to -"

"Look, I'm sorry I keep cutting you off, but seriously Liv, you need to cut the crap. I. Am. Not. Going. To. Leave. You. Alone. With. That. Bastard. On. Your. Tail."

I rolled my eyes at him, "Okay, fine. I'm not going anywhere,"

The last thing I saw before waking up was his terrible, snarling face, threatening to end my life, which had me waking up screaming and crying uncontrollably.