Title: Bruised
Author: Lily
Disclaimer: Not mine, included the lyrics at the beginning that
really don't further the point of this fic
Distribution: OzMIA and anyone else who asks
Rating: PG
Summary: dark Tara POV, around this time.
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"Love doesn't kill you
It's not a one-way ticket to a lonely life,
It may break your heart, but the physical risk is low..."
~Fastball, "Love Doesn't Kill You"
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Ouch. I press my palm over my eye as it waters with the force of the blow. I can only hope there'll be no bruises to explain to her in the morning. Turning away from her, I add tears of sadness to the ones that the pain has induced.
She just gets more and more violent. I remember the first time we shared a bed. She had cuddled into my side, kissed my check lightly, and fallen asleep with her arm draped across my waist. I was in awe. I didn't go to sleep right away, opting to just watch her. As I drifted off, she began to whimper and kick. I figured that a lot of people kick in their sleep, and she hasn't shared a bed for a while, so no big deal. But as the whimpers got louder my heart started beating faster--I was afraid of her dream. I shook her, and she opened her sleepy eyes calmly, "What's the matter? Are you having trouble sleeping?"
"No...it's nothing. It's just...you seemed like you were having a bad dream." She didn't remember. Smiling at my concern, she turned over and slept soundly through the night.
After a while I stopped waking her. She never remembers a thing. In those dreams, if they are dreams, she's not the Willow I know. She's not the affectionate, sweet, caring Willow. She's different. Her face becomes a mask of rage, and sometimes the tears stream out of her clamped-shut eyes. She never says a word, but I know that every punch and kick is intended for me, not a nameless punching bag.
I move away a little bit, but I don't get out of bed. I just wear long sleeves if she claws her fingernails down my arms. I wear ankle-length skirts to hide the bruises all over my legs. If she hits me in the face in her fury, I make up excuses. I'm strong enough to endure the pain. She was the first to make me feel the way she makes me feel when she's not beating me up. That has to be worth the sleepless nights and the bruises.
But it hurts inside too. It hurts because I know only one reason she would hate me that much. If her sleeping self hates me that much, perhaps on his behalf, I doubt our relationship can last very long. In fact, as I test my vision in the hurt eye, half of me just wants all of her to realize that she has to end it with me. I need it to be over. It's not that I don't love her...but I know inside me that one night her anger won't be settled after a few punches. Being with her will be my end.
FIN.