Pierce's P.O.V

Flashback (Ilvermorny 2015)

"Stop being such an awful girlfriend," a slap to my cheek, "Just obey my commands."

Screaming out in pain is something that occurs regularly, almost every Saturday to be exact. He beats me, he uses me as his personal punching bag. At first I thought it was love; he was so kind and gentle; he made me feel loved. I loved him, and somehow, I thought that somewhere super deep down, that he loved me too.

We were the "it" couple, everyone wanted to have what we had; to feel like we did for each other. We held hands, cuddled in classes, he kept me warm when I was cold- even if it meant getting a chill himself.

He was the perfect gentleman, he'd mutter sweet words in my ears, making feelings grow beyond recognition. My love for him was like a tree, fed with smiles and watered with the blood that rushed to my cheeks when he would speak to me.

He could always turn up the sides of my mouth in uncomfortable situations; he brought me out of my shell. He made me become someone more than myself, he took my body and formed a personality that was just so likable.

Everything he did, he did for me, he would say that to me at night before I'd fall asleep to the rise and fall of his chest. His heartbeat, beating slowly, calmly, lulling me into a dreamless sleep; soon to be ridiculed with nightmares.

Our first date was a picnic, out by the fairy wood; there was a checkered blanket and a woven basket filled with all of my favourite pastries. We sat, we talked, we learned each others hobbies, but most of all we suddenly knew each other; and he understood me, He understood the pressure and the pain; soon enough, he only made it worse.

The relationship only progressed from there; we would do our homework together, potions partners, practically insuperable. Six months disaster free, and that's when the beatings, persuasion, and manipulation began.

He began to demand affection, kissing, holding hands in public; when I would refuse, all hell broke loose. He would grab my arm, pain stinging it like alcohol on a wound, and drag me into a broom cupboard. He'd beat me, leaving bruises to trail along my torso and thighs.

He was smart, he would never kiss my skin with bruises where they could be exposed; always invisible to the basic human eyes.

After months of abuse I quit, my body began to shut down; it went into overdrive, it went places it shouldn't have gone, and it took me to a place I would never wish anyone disappear like I did.

I would never want anyone to brutally murder their abusive by stabbing him repeatably, and that was my escape. Little did I know that When I stabbed him, It was only one of the many times he'd died.

I didn't know what I had done; I didn't know that I had made a mistake, I didn't know that he could com back. And now, he's standing right in front of me, glaring. I quiver in fear, and stare into the dangerously gorgeous eyes of Remmington De Ville.

"Hello, Darling." smirk lacing his features.