Author's Note:

BC isn't getting raped, okay? :O

Sorry if I made any people mad with the last chapter, but I had to do it for the storyline. Please remember:

Things will get worse before they get better.

And BTW, with the long time skip in this chapter, don't worry. Nothing too important happened, so that is why BC is gonna make a summary for us in her own thoughts.

Don't kill me over this, people. :O

Please. :D

Buttercup's Point of View (six weeks later)—

These last few weeks had been horrible. When Mitch actually was sweet, it only lasted for so long. It was a pattern that had been set up; we would be having fun together or watching T.V., he would get mad about something, he took out his frustrations on me. I was quite used to it. I had been called a bitch or a slut so many times that I thought it was my own name once or twice. Some days he was more aggressive and I went to bed with deeper cuts. The next day, however, he was sweet again. When I gazed into the mirror, I hardly even recognized myself. And I think I liked it.

Maybe it's been about a month since I left? How should I know? Mitch allows no contact to or from anyone else, especially Butch. He says he's afraid to lose me.

I rolled out of bed and marveled in silence at the scars and bruises on my legs and arms. Some of them were still bleeding a bit and hadn't healed. I smirked, for a reason I can't fully comprehend, and walked to my dresser. I threw on a pair of sweats, my Winchester Senior High hoodie, and a pair of fuzzy socks before cautiously sauntering into the living room. That was another thing. You had to be careful walking into his territory. He doesn't like surprises very much.

"Mitch?" I called out quietly.

He turned his head over and glanced at me, then back at the T.V.

"Hey."

I walked over to him, watching his every move. I was fully prepared for a sudden rage. Upon seeing no sign of motion, I sat down gingerly on the couch, my legs still tense.

"I love you," he said, turning his head slightly. I sighed and repeated the same words.

That's yet another thing with Mitch. If he tells me those three words, I must repeat them, or he questions my behavior and goes into a furious rampage. We had told each other those words so many times that I actually believed them. After he would so cruelly punish me for what ever I did wrong, he would fondle me and tell me how sorry he was and how much he loved me, and he would kiss away the pain. I developed a pattern of enduring the punishments simply to hear an 'I love you.'

"Are you scared of me?" he asked, his attention fully turned towards me. I gulped as my mind raced with apprehensive thoughts, not really knowing which was the right answer. I didn't want to set him off. So I chose silence. Big mistake. This may have been the biggest mistake of my life. Mitch hated me to stay silent when he asked a question.

"Did you hear me speaking to you?"

"Y-yes…"

"Well then, answer the question."

"I-I'm not scared of you…"

He cocked his head to the side as a sinister smirk spread across his face. I knew what was coming next. I should have known.

"Do you want me to show you something scary?"

"Mitch, please, no…"

I should have never rolled out of bed this morning.

"Are you sure?" he asked, stepping closer to me.

"Yes, I'm sure, Mitch…"

I may never see daylight again.

He crept over to me and pulled me closer to him. Out of sheer reflexes and fear, my hand struck against his throat. Oh my gosh. No.

His hand slowly trailed up to his neck and fingered the bruise gently as he stared at me in astonishment. I cupped my hands over my mouth.

"Mitch, I'm sorry, I never meant it!" I cried, backing away from him.

"You fucking hit me…" he said, standing over me, glaring down into my eyes.

"Mitch! Please don't hurt me!"

He thought a moment before smiling evilly.

"That wasn't my plan, but thanks for the idea."

I should have seen this coming.

He grabbed me by my neck and threw me against the wall. I bit my lip as my head throbbed with pain, my breathing becoming quick and ragged. He slowly walked over to me and pulled me up by my neck, slamming my back against the wall. His eyes bored into my fearful ones as he smirked at me, sending shivers of fear down my spine. I, for the life of me, would have never even thought of something as stupid as trying to run away from him. I learned that lesson the hard way.

"Buttercup, everything could be so right between us. You just have to fuck it all up, babe."

I held my breath as his face grew closer to mine.

"And you know I don't let things just slide. I give harsh punishments, correct?"

"Yes…yes, Mitch…"

He smiled, and then pulled me into an unexpected rough kiss, nipping at my lower lip. When he pulled away, he smiled. Not a smirk, but a smile. I smiled back gratefully. I'm glad that he decided to be considerate and spare my life. His firm grip on my neck faded to a soft hold as he slowly brought my feet down to the floor. He sat down and I sat down beside him, resting my head on his lap, beaming uncontrollably. He traced circles along my scars and turned my head to the side as he leaned down and lightly kissed my cheek.

"M-Mitch?"

"Hmm?"

"What's this for?" I asked cautiously.

"Because I love you," he replied innocently, planting another kiss on my forehead. He smiled at me again, and I smiled back. I decided to accept his reason. If I protested any further, I probably wouldn't end up so lucky.

"I love you too," I whispered, my eyes sparkling up at him. As much as I would have liked him to, I knew he wouldn't stay very sweet for long. At this point, I hardly cared if he hit me or not, as long as I still got to see that side of him. I didn't care how many times he called me out of my name or pulled my hair. I didn't care how many times he would beat me senseless. None of that mattered to me anymore. Just as long as I stayed with him, I was perfectly content. A part of me knew that this was unhealthy and dangerous, but I say Mitch makes dangerous and unhealthy look sexy! Besides, I couldn't leave him.

He lifted me from the ground and carried me over to the couch, lowering me onto the plush cushions gingerly. He sat beside me, his eyes never leaving mine. I nervously looked down at my socks and avoided his gaze.

"Buttercup."

I looked back up at him fearfully.

"Why don't you wanna look at me?"

"I-I'm sorry, Mitch! I didn't mean to, honest! I—"

"It's okay, babe. You act so nervous. Like you're scared of me or something. Wait, are you?"

I lowered my gaze to my socks once again and listened to him in silence. A concerned frown crept onto his face as he crawled towards me. I fought to control my reflexes and stay still. His hand traced up to my face and lifted my damp chin as his other hand brushed my bangs out of my eyes.

"Babe, don't cry." he soothed, examining my tearstained face.

He pulled me into his lap and pressed my face onto his chest, rubbing my back tenderly with his free hand.

"Don't be scared of me…I love you."

I closed my eyes as the tears streamed down my cheeks in a steady rhythm. I didn't exactly know why I was crying; I guess I had just bottled up all of my emotions for too long. They had to come out sometime.

"You know, Buttercup, you're so beautiful."

I looked up at him curiously. Here I was, my hair strewn all over my head in a mass of wild tangles, my eyes probably reddened form crying, my lips quivering, and he was calling me beautiful. He chuckled, amused at my puzzled expression, and grinned.

"I know you may not think so, but you are. Honestly. Plus, you kinda smell like vanilla cupcakes."

I sniffed myself subconsciously. I did smell like cake. He laughed and pulled my chin up slightly.

"Are you okay now?"

"Mhm."

He leaned down and kissed me before pulling away.

"Good."

And there, I lay in his arms in content, his hands gently caressing my back, my eyes closed. I loved this feeling. This was the feeling I endured intense beatings for. This was the feeling that was constantly on my mind before I went to bed, scarred and battered. If only it lasted.

Author's Note: Short, I know... .