VioletQueenMarie: I am not even going to lie. I wrote this several times, each one cutting out more and more because honestly, my stomach hurt from the roles that are at play here. But, I hope you do enjoy the parts that made the cut. Though I still feel a bit queasy about it, and fair warning if you are one sensitive to abuse, I tried to cut out as much as possible, but it is Randall...sooo... yeah.

Disclaimer: I do not own the song/lyrics/characters.

Trouble

What is the meaning of love?

Is it feeling connected to another person on a soul-deep level? Is it comfort in their embrace when your scared, hurt, or heaven forbid- happy? Or is it the way their eyes shine when they look at you? Or is it the way they speak? Endless words of adoration, desire, possession rolling off their tongue, claiming your mind, your body without permission.

Or maybe, just maybe, it's in the way that they would do anything to protect you. Physically. Mentally. Emotionally. They would bleed for you, die even if it meant keeping you safe. Worship your body, claiming it as their own in the tenderest of ways. Feather-light caresses that light your skin on fire, leaving burn tracks in their wake. Not bruises.

It's hard to believe him when he tells me he loves me because the scars tell another story. The multiple bite marks that litter my neck, breast, thighs...everywhere. I know what I signed up for getting involved with a Moroi, a prestigious Royal at that, but I didn't think it would be like this. Black eyes. Fractured arm. Dislocated shoulder. Bite marks for days.

And if I don't do something about it soon, death will surely be the next injury I face.

Closing my eyes, I watch the stars dance behind my lids, my head still throbbing from the last blow he gave me -one that sent me tumbling down the stairs, hitting my head several times. All the while he lays beside me, blissfully asleep as if he didn't spend the last hour beating me within an inch of my life. Or maybe that is why he is out cold, he exhausted his energy for the day. Can you see his silhouette?

A sob builds in my throat - I beg and plead for it to stay down, but it climbs and climbs, reaching my lips and slipping through. Please, please, don't wake up, don't wake up, I send my silent prayer to the heavens, hoping that someone will hear my pleas and keep me safe, even if it's just for the night. My throat tightens, heart hammering in my chest from the internal turmoil. I have to get out of this, I can't go on like this anymore. He is like smoke- drawn in by my own accord, but slowly killing me from the inside out, setting a fire in my head. I don't deserve it. The kids don't deserve it.

Karolina refuses to come home after the last time, a day I would rather not think of. Sonja won't come out of her room when he is here, and Dimka- Oh my Dimka- he is beside himself. He is old enough now to understand what is happening, to see the demon his father is. I never wanted him to witness the damage of his fathers drinking and temper. I didn't want him to become like Randall. And I can see in his eyes he wants to do something to stop it, to end my pain. But there is nothing he can do. He is just a boy, only ten years old, it is just too much for him.

But not me. I've got my mind made up this time. I will no longer stand for his abuse. The days of taking his word to heart, all the promises of a wonderful life. The endless promises to always be by my side, supporting and loving me and the kids, gone. I won't forget him, I couldn't if I tried. But I have to do something now before it's too late.

Determination surged through me, burning bright like the midnight sun. I am going to do this.

Opening my eyes, my lungs drew empty, my heart slammed against my ribcage, and my determination washed away as I prepared to scream. Only, I couldn't. His hand clamped down over my mouth, his forearm pressing against my windpipe, cutting off any attempt at making a single noise.

"Why the fuck are you crying," he growled. Even if I had an answer to give, I wouldn't be able to, his grip tightened, the pressure on my jaw that of a vice grip, causing me to whimper louder. "If you just did as you were told, I wouldn't have to punish you, you know that right?"

I nodded softly.

"Good," he removed his hand, placing a kiss to my forehead, "Now, go to sleep. I love you, Olena."

Struggling to breathe, not daring to cough and show my weakness, my voice came out hoarse, "I love you, too."

Both his words and mine felt empty. There is no love here, no matter how many times he claims there is. There used to be, back when we first met. We were young, and he was so handsome, - all dark hair, piercing emerald eyes, and brooding personality- I swore he would be mine forever. Not in the marriage type of way, but more or less a constant figure in my life- a firm foundation of love in my heart. When did it all change? When did he become the monster of my dreams? And how the hell do I get out of it?

There is a menace in my bed. Can you see his silhouette?

Trouble- Halsey