Darkest of Days

RK doesn't belong to me.

WARNING: This is a dark story, with adult situations, and abuse.

Chapter 1

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"And why do you keep fucking coming back?! You could go and live in the better part of this fucking city, but no, instead you stay with me! Why you bitch? Why so you fucking stay?!" He didn't wait for an answer as he left, and she stayed at her seat on an old chair, paring he would come back… like he would always do, but fearing the day he would not.

It wasn't impossible for him to not show—any thing awaited them out side the horrid door to the streets of the city, but he always came back intact, as did she. But something made her worry, for today, he seemed beyond him self, his usually self of which she loved more then her own soul, if she had one.

She wouldn't go after him though. The last time she did, the pain she injuries she had gotten was more then she could bear, for this also hurt her not just physically, but emotionally. She loved him, but his feelings for her would always be a mystery.

Tears came as she cried out in agony, no one hearing her wails as she fell to the floor and held her self in pain. Life had never been good for her—just full of this pain she could not hold in but pour from herself in the most weakest of moments. Ironic, wasn't it? A woman who wanted to hold the heavy burdens of the man she loved, while she couldn't even hold the ties that bound her own heart and keep it there. Not a perfect match, but she would constantly try to do so.

But, would she fail or succeed?

More tears came, as the taunting of the time she went after him came to her mind, seeping into her eyes like blood from the wounds she had gotten that day.

"Please come back."

"What did you say? For me to go back to that heel hole? You bitch are not a woman for me to take orders from. You are not my mother." He raised his fist and slapped her hard, hearing, with satisfaction, the breaking of her jaw. Taking her back to their apartment, and continued to beat her. All the while he was talking to her softly, and telling her things that he was going to do—most just threats, but some he did. Like breaking her ribs, and arm, hitting her head, but he never took her the only thing she would have left of anything 'innocent' to her.

She guessed that it went against his pride and what was left of his feelings for her.

But that night hurt her like nothing before, for she was in love with him, and there he was—the man she loved—hurting her and feeding off her cries of pain and broken heart.

And he didn't seem to care… didn't seem to care at all…

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AN: This is the darkest thing I have every written down inside of my head—and so you probably noticed. And sense I gave you a warning, flames aren't all that appreciated, and they will just be ignored.

Despite all its darkness, I hope you like it, and it will get…um, some what sweeter latter on, in some bits… just, not right now.

I hope you liked it, and please review, comments, suggestions, etc. are excepted.

Thanks!