This is a little story I decided to write to raise awareness about domestic violence in gay/lesbian relationship. I do not condone violence but wish to make the reality of abuse plain through writing. Please get involved in your local community domestic violence centers and make a difference. You can make a difference in the life of someone else...no matter who they are. This story is angsty but it depicts the reality that so many people live in everyday.

Warning: Contains references associated to domestic violence, crude language, adult sexual relationship between two men: SLASH. If this is not for you, please don't read. If you are under 18 stop reading now!

Original characters belong to SM. No infringement intended.

Jasper's POV

"Jasper Whitlock?"

I almost didn't recognize my own name. It was shocking how easy it was to use my maiden name again. I certainly didn't want to have my married name in my charts just in case it got back to James that I was up here. I looked up as the nurse called to me from the door that led to the treatment rooms. I couldn't believe that I had finally made the decision to come to the hospital. I reluctantly stood up and shamefully walked towards her. I was so embarrassed I couldn't see straight.

As if she could read my mind, she gave me a little smile to ease my nervousness. She was an attractive brunette. Too bad I was batting for the other team. I might have been interested. I was several inches taller than she was, so she had to look up at me when I passed her to go into the back. She held a chart and I quickly looked at it and saw my name on it. She smiled empathetically at me again and closed the door behind her.

"Jasper Whitlock?"

"Yes, Ma'am." I gave her a small smile. I had made up my mind that even though I was here at Forks Hospital, I would minimize my injuries to protect James. After all, he was my husband.

She extended her hand to me. "I'm Angela and I'll be assisting Dr. Cullen this morning." I allowed her to walk ahead of me and kept my head bowed, counting the square tiles as we walked down the long hallway. "Right this way, please." We walked a little further I was vaguely aware of all the hospital equipment and medicine carts. She guided me to an examination room.

"I hate hospitals." I said meekly. "I always have."

She giggled. "Most patients do." She pointed to the chair next to the sink. She was very nice and gentle and that helped settle my nerves a little more. "Don't worry. We will take excellent care of you."

"No needles please." I couldn't stand the thought of her puncturing me with any sharp object. I had been wounded enough.

"I give you my word that you will only get a needle if you really need one." I gave her a nauseous look. She held her hand to her heart. "I promise."

"Gee thanks." I said nonchalantly earning another round of giggles.

"I'm going to take your vitals." She rolled the medical thermometer over to me and placed it under my tongue. "Hold that under your tongue until you hear the beep."

I nodded in understanding. This was always the easy part. Soon the beep came.

"Hmmm. Your temp is 101." She gave me a pitiful look as she jotted that down in my chart.

That made me concerned so I reached up and touched my forehead. I did feel a little warm. "What does that mean?"

"That means you are a feverish." She was very professional and careful to keep me calm.

"Feverish?" I asked. I didn't feel sick so I didn't know why I would have a fever.

"Yes. Any temp that is over 100 is considered to be a fever." She explained. 'It's low grade but still it's a fever."

"I mean…like what causes it. I don't have a cold or anything like that." I stated plainly. The last thing I needed was to be coming down with something. James would not be happy about that. He expected me to be at the top of my game all the time. There was no room for sickness and I knew if I couldn't perform the way he wanted me to in bed, I would be in deep shit.

She gently rubbed my shoulder to comfort me. "Oh, don't worry dear. It'll be just fine. Dr. Cullen will examine you thoroughly once he comes in and talk to you about other possible symptoms that you may be experiencing."

She rolled the thermometer back out of the way and proceeded to set the blood pressure machine up. "To answer your question, body temperature is a measure of the body's ability to generate and get rid of heat. Your body is very good at keeping its temperature within a narrow, safe range in spite of large variations in temperatures outside it. I'll spare you of all the logistics, but basically a fever can be caused by a number of things like infections…"

Nope, I don't have infections.

"…medicines…"

Nope, not on any meds, unless you want to give me some pain killers.

"…injury or trauma or even stress…"

You got it!

I dropped my head so she couldn't see the tears in my eyes as the realization hit me. I had my share of trauma and stress these days. Living with James and all of his stupid rules was an emotional and physical nightmare. I fought hard to keep the tears from falling but it was useless. She gave me another gentle smile as if she'd seen this a thousand times.

She put the cuff around my around arm. "You okay, sweetie?"

I nodded and bit my bottom lip to keep from sobbing. I had to lie to protect James. If he knew I was here, he would whip me with that belt for half of the night.

She shook her head and sighed, resolved not to question me further. She had a hunch that I was far from alright. I was sure she would have more questions later.

"140/93." She took the cuff off and raised my chin up with her finger to meet her eyes. "That's high for a guy your age and size. You seem to be in pretty good shape…physically at least."

More tears fell from my eyes as I silently listened to her.

"Do you have a history of hypertension in your family?" She asked, moving to retrieve a tissue from a box near the sink. She handed it to me.

"Thank you." I whispered. I cleaned my face, hoping desperately that she wouldn't start asking to many questions. "No ma'am. No history. Not to my knowledge."

She sighed again and wrote my reading in my chart. "I'm sure Dr. Cullen is going to want to talk to you about this when he comes in." She squeezed my shoulder for support but only instructed me to step on the scale.

I got up and went to stand on the scale. I kept my head down and my shoulders slumped. I was too embarrassed to let the staff and patients see how weak I was.

"Jasper, stand up straight for me please." I immediately obeyed. "170 pounds." I had lost a few pounds although I was not surprised. Between all the stresses that James put me through and him withholding food at times, it was a miracle that I even weighed that much. She wrote it down in my chart. "You can go ahead and step off the scale. I'm going to measure your height now." She didn't even need to do that. I was a solid 5 feet 11 inches all day long.

After she charted my height she led me back to the exam room where she instructed me to sit on the bed. I liked Angela and she seemed to be drawn to me. She started preparing the room for Dr. Cullen.

"Where are you from Jasper?" I knew she was making small talk to ease my nerves.

"I was born in Houston, Texas, but I've lived in Seattle since I was little." I offered, grateful that she wasn't asking too many personal questions.

Turned and gave me another calming smile. "How did you get to Forks?" She finished what she was doing and came to stand next to me.

"Um, I moved here after college." That was truth. After James and I got married, despite my parents' resistance, we moved to this little town. I think it was because he could still be close enough to the city and do business, but get me far enough away from everybody so he could have me all to himself. My parents were not allowed to come see me that often.

She smiled again. "I noticed that your birthday is December 14. That's my daughter's birthday… a Sagittarius. What do you like to do in your spare time?"

I knew she had to be busy and that the ER was probably getting backed up with patients, but somehow I felt a connection with this woman. It was as if she had to make sure I was going to mentally okay before she left.

"Um…I play the guitar and I pretty much like most performing arts. I write a lot. I used to play with a band called 100 Monkeys with a few buddies of mine, but I haven't toured with them in a while." That was another thing that James took from me when he started isolating me from any and everyone. This saddened me even more. This didn't go unnoticed.

"Jasper, you seem like a great person. I noticed on your admission sheet you stated that you are single with no kids."

I shook nervously now, but held myself together. They couldn't find out that I was married. If my husband found out that I was here…this was a small town…if someone saw me here…they could tell him…I was careful to wear my hoodie here and I chose to take the path through the woods so no one would see me.

Angela noticed my distress. "Jasper I see the ring mark on your finger. I know you're married, sweetheart."

I refused to start crying. "We're separated." I blurted that lie out so fast that I believed it myself.

Wishful thinking.

Unfortunately I was the only one who believed me. She instantly called my bluff but decided not to press me further. "Jasper, if you need to talk, I'm here all day. I'm just going to put your chart out here for Dr. Cullen and we'll both return in a moment." She patted my shoulders again. I flinched. I had been avoiding any signs of pain when she touched me since I'd been here. I finally slipped and she noticed. She winced but stepped to put the file in the basket on the outside of the door so Dr. Cullen would know we were ready. She walked back over to me.

Come on Jasper. Stay calm. Stop being so nervous. She already suspects that you are in some kind of abusive situation. I knew she had to be puzzled…surely I wouldn't let a woman hurt me…did she expect that I was gay too?

I started chanting my calming mantra in my head. I was afraid of what this visit would cost me if I got caught. I began to relax a little but then her next words set me on edge again. Surely she must have heard my heart pounding in my chest.

"Jasper are you hurt?" She asked. I looked at her with fear in my eyes. Before I could raise my hand to button the collar of my white button down, she gasped at what she saw.

Shit! I should have left my hoodie on. She probably noticed those bruises when I brought my hand up there drawing attention to it!

"Oh Jasper!" A puff of air escaped her mouth as she looked at me with the most sincere and warm eyes I had only seen from my parents. I lowered my eyes to my hands that were now in my lap. I could no longer hold the tears back. "Jasper, sweetheart, you're badly bruised. What happened?"

I didn't have the guts to tell her that my darling husband James decided to punish me for breaking another one of his dumb rules. He became belligerent when I asked him if I could go see a movie with my good friends Jacob and Paul. They were a gay couple that I'd met during the short while I was in college at UW and we were all very close…or at least we had been before James.

I'd seen Paul at the grocery store one day when he'd come home to La Push to visit his family. Since I was well aware that La Push had grocery stores, I knew he'd come to Forks in hopes of running into me. Of course when he saw me he was excited and we hugged. Thankfully we lived on the outskirts of Forks and no one in this small town was really into James and my business. People knew we were a gay couple but pretty much left us alone. That didn't mean that people didn't know James and could tell him that they saw me hugging another man in the store.

We talked for a minute, and I was quite cognizant of the fact that we were in public and James would probably be coming home soon. He traveled a lot and did business in Seattle and Port Angeles a lot, but he always came home at the most unexpected times. I knew it was so he could keep tabs on me.

Paul had invited me to go with him and Jacob to see a movie in Port Angeles. I made up some excuse and told him that if I had a change of plans I would call him. Well I knew I wouldn't be able to call him because James monitored all of my calls. He still continued to allow me to have my cell phone, but he had full access to my account. He knew everything I did on that phone. I told Paul I would let him know by the end of the week.

When I'd asked James if I could go, he accused me of not wanting to spend time with him. I knew then that he wasn't going to let me go because he had the monopoly on all of my free time. Other than running the many errands he sent me on, I didn't have a life outside of James. He'd asked me when I had talked to Paul. I lied and told him that I hadn't talked to him. I had to. I told him that it was just an idea that I had because I had seen his Mom at the store and she told me he was coming home. If I told him I had been talking to Paul, he would have tried to keep me from going to the store, and that would have been the end of me for sure.

I know it was pathetic, but going to the grocery store was the only way I stayed sane. It was a reminder that life did exist outside of our house. He would have moved me himself if he thought I was getting to close to my friends. I was also afraid that he would make good on his promise to uproot us from Forks and move us to Florida, something he'd wanted to do for a while anyway.

Well of course, he told me I couldn't go and asked me when Paul was coming home. I lied again and told him I wasn't sure. I knew he was asking because he either was going to make sure he was home during that time, or had me followed or something to make sure I didn't sneak off to go see him. Well he called my bluff and started yelling at me for lying to him and accusing me of wanting to meet Paul so that we could be together. He'd grabbed me by my hair and pushed me into the wall. Before I knew it he'd thrown me on the floor and was impaling my neck and chest with his fist.

All I could do was cry and scream for him to stop hurting me. Afterwards, he dragged me kicking and screaming to our bedroom. He threw me on the bed and took off his belt and proceeding to whip me like I was a child. I cried and reached out for him to stop, but he just kept hitting me with rage in his eyes. After much yelling, swearing, and name calling, he ordered me to shut up and that he didn't want to hear any more crying. I knew from experience that I had to stop or he would start over again.

"Jasper?" She handed me some more tissues. "What happened? Do want to talk about it?"

I had to tell them something to get them off my back. There was no way this could get out. Even though they didn't know me here, someone who knew someone could possibly let it slip that Jasper Hale, husband of James Hale, was treated for domestic assault injuries.

"I was involved in a motorcycle accident this past weekend. I hit a rock on the turn and flipped. I landed on some old logs." It was the best I could come up with on the spur of the moment. I hated lying to her, but it was something I'd learned to do in order to protect myself. If nothing else had come from my marriage to James, I could say that he'd helped me master the art of lying.

"It's no problem. I should have known better than to take the bike out after all of that rain. I'll be fine." The truth was that I was hurting like a son of a bitch. I had come to the hospital because it felt like James had crack one or more of my ribs. "Don't worry about me. I'm tough." I managed a fake smile, but she saw right through it.

"That must have been some fall." She paused and gave me a chance to tell her what really happened. Sensing that I was resolved to my story, she didn't press the issue further.
"I'm just going to step out here and see where we are in the line-up. I'll be back shortly, dear. Do you need anything?"

I shook my head. "No, Ma'am. Thank you." I said politely. I was sincerely grateful for her kindness, but I was too glad when she disappeared behind the door. She left me alone in that quite room in the torture chamber of my private thoughts.

If I was honest with myself, I part of me still loved James. He was my first love, and when I had fallen in love with him, I fell hard. Our two year marriage was not always like this. In the beginning it was beautiful. When I first met him, I had only been out for about a year. He was probably the most handsome man I had ever seen. He was a blonde God, with the deepest shade of blue eyes I'd ever seen. He had an alluring smile that immediately captured my heart and lassoed me in.

He was charming and loving. He was confident and his mere presence commanded my undivided attention. I was drawn to this man and he made me feel things I had never felt before. He was a gentleman. He held doors for me, pulled out my chair at dinner, wined and dined me at the finest restaurants wherever we went. On the flip side of that, he was able to relax and just hang out with beer and pizza and a movie.

The smallest word from him had sent shivers up my spine. He was so damn gorgeous and I couldn't wait to get in bed with him. He hadn't wasted any time coming on strongly to me either. He later told me that he knew I was gay from the first time I'd met him, and that he had to have me. He wanted me in his bed and he wasn't going to stop until he had me writhing under him…under his complete control.

If I only knew then what I know now.

Looking back at the beginning of our relationship, I could definitely see that James had actually shown me who he really was. I was just too in love with him to be able to see it at the time. It was the way he placed his hands on me as if he was claiming me as a possession. He would always insist on paying for my meals or even just a coffee. I was in college at UW when he met me, so he would insist on walking me to class or meeting me for lunch. He would want to have lunch with me every day and he'd be waiting for me most days when I got done with my last class. He became resentful of my relationship with my good friends, playfully accusing me of not wanting to be with him.

Of course he kept the real James locked away until he had me in his front pocket. Oh he could do that so well. He was very over-protective of me when we dated. He thought other guys wanted to be with me, despite the fact that I kept reassuring him that he was the only for me and that I loved him. A guy could look at me the wrong way and he'd be ready to punch him in the face. There were several occasions where I had to stop him from jumping some guys from the school, the mall, or anywhere we would go. That did concern me a little, and whenever I said something to him, he told me that he was sorry and that he only did it because he loved me.

Once he thought that I was flirting with a waiter at Dingo's, a local pub, and he ended up almost getting in another fight. Although he never physically hurt me after that incident, he didn't talk to me for over a week. He knew his isolation and rejection would send me over the edge, so he didn't call or answer my calls. Looking back I knew that was a coy to make me come running back to him, begging him to take me back. It worked because that's exactly what I did. At that point I was head over heels in love with him and I didn't want to lose him. Of course he took me back, but not before making me give him one of the best blow jobs he'd ever had and nearly fucking me into the mattress. When he was done he'd told me to never test him like that again. I promised him I wouldn't.

James had literally swept into my world, and sent me through a revolving door. He was the total package. He not only had the looks, but he was a wealthy and savvy business man. What guy wouldn't want him? I remember counting my blessings, thinking how fortunate I was to have captured his interest. He could have had any guy he wanted. Yet he was not in a relationship with anyone and he wanted me.

Knowing that I was young and recently out, he offered let me set the pace for our relationship, even though he was a natural born leader. I had no qualms with him taking the lead in our relationship. He was my top and I was his bottom and I had no issues with that dynamic at all. I not only wanted him to lead, I needed it. I craved it. He said he wanted me to be sure I was ready for a relationship with him. I should have taken that clue right then but I was too love sick to catch it.

I truly believed that at one point James really loved me. I had to believe that and refused to allow myself to believe that my judgment was that impaired. I mean I had only dated one guy for a couple of months after I officially came out at UW, but we only went out on a couple of dates. I was still a virgin when I met James and that had really appealed to him. I mean, I had exchanged hand jobs with the guy I was with for those two months, but James was my first. I guess that's why I fell so hard for him.

James was older than me by several years. I was twenty-one when I met him. He was forty-one so he was significantly older, much to my parents and friends' chagrin. Their resistance only made the challenge of winning me much more exciting for me. James had a keen tracking sense about him. He knew what he wanted and knew just how to chase it until he got it. He'd captured my scent and was on my trail, or should I say tail, until he got in my ass. Once he got there, it was impossible to get him out.

He was a skilled lover. His expertise far exceeded mine. He made me feel and experience things that I had never felt before. He took his time and knew exactly what to do to make me feel like the most important person in the world. He could drive me insane with just a small puff on air or a simple stroke or nudge, the trailing of his fingers… His lips were magical instruments in themselves. He could give me the best orgasm I'd ever experienced just by using those lips and delicate fingers of his. Oh yes- James was able to work magic in the bedroom.

The sex was so hot in the beginning. Like I said I craved the way he took charge in bed. He would say and do whatever he wanted to me, and I let him. I wanted him to. He fucked my brains out hard and fast and I reveled in every thrust. I offered no objection to the way he pounded my ass over and over, or the way he fucked my mouth like I was his bitch. I offered no argument because I was his bitch…he made sure of that. I was so in love with him that I was willing to own that and all it entailed. I enjoyed it and so did he.

We began spending more and more time together. I would stay over at his apartment for days and never even see my friends. He worked during the day while I attended classes. At night we went out on the town, and I remember thinking how odd it was that he never introduced me to any of his friends. Now I know that though he had many, he chose to keep me from them too. Not only did he keep me from my friends, but he was afraid I would get close to his too.

So every night was about us. We would go to the theater or museum or to some exhibit or cultural arts fair. We'd go to wine tastings or just lounge around the apartment. Most of all we had lots of spontaneous and wild sex, sometimes to the point of sheer exhaustion. Neither of cared that we often fell on sleep on the kitchen table or the balcony naked and spent.

James decided early on that I needed a new wardrobe. I had never been much for flashy clothing, but I had always taken careful consideration in my dress. I always made sure my clothes were clean and pressed and I did make it a point to buy me something new every month. When I met James, I was blown away by the sight of his walk-in closet. He had numerous high-end designer suits that I was sure cost more than my first semester tuition. He had just as many shoes of every style and design, mostly dress or casual shoes. He had a few pairs of running shoes but he told me he preferred to only wear them when he was running.

James was very meticulous in his style. Every stitch of fabric was tailored to give that fine physique a custom fit. All of his clothes were dry clean only…even his denim and street clothes. He was particular about his appearance and hygiene and demanded the same from me. If I had a wrinkle or thread out of place that would earn me a good smack across my face, followed by insults that my parents spoiled me and didn't raise me properly. He would yell and say that he put too much money in my clothes for me to embarrass him by looking like garbage. Of course when we were dating he would handle this differently by saying that he wanted his man to look nice and that he worked too hard for his money to have me doing without. So I let him indulge me and I was always careful of my dress before I came into his presence. It was after we were married that he started to smack me around for failing to pass his inspection tests.

Paul and Jacob were happy that I'd found love in James, but they were a little apprehensive about my relationship with an older man, settled man. When I told them what side of town he lived on, they nearly panicked. They thought I was getting sucked in by all of the money and prestige that came with dating a man like James and encouraged me to slow down. Of course I objected because I liked what was happening in my life at that time and I didn't want it to slow down in the least. I loved James and I would have moved the earth for him if I could.

Despite prompting from my friends to stop spending so much time with him, I found myself quickly absorbed completely into his world. My wants and desires became obsolete. My friends didn't know what to make of this. They certainly had more experience in the dating department than I did and they were convinced that I was losing too much of myself in him. I tried to explain my relationship with James with them, but failed to really paint the picture as clear as it was for me. They just couldn't understand why I would let him change me so much and especially why I would let him dominate my time to the point where I rarely saw them. I repeatedly denied losing my identity in James, but they were not convinced. My friends loved me and understood that I was young and innocent and that James could possibly be trying to take advantage of me.

It wasn't long before he'd convinced me that all I needed was him and that he wanted to spend his all of his free time with me. I moved in with him after dating for six months and two months later we were married-just the two of us-a destination wedding. He wanted it that way with the promise of a reception when we got back where we could invite our friends and family. That never happened. I saw my friends when I could and eventually rarely even called them. It wasn't that I turned my back on them. He pulled me away from them, manipulating my emotions until I felt that I should keep contact with my friends and family to minimal so that I could love him and be solely his.

Man were they right! I was so stupid and love sick, too afraid of letting James slip through my fingers. After the last two years with him, I realize I should have slicked my fingers with that baby oil we use as lubricant and let him slide right through. Thank God they saw what I couldn't and didn't hate me. I love those guys so much.

The problems began right after we returned from Belize where we spent our honeymoon. It was then that the writing on the wall became crystal clear, but it still took me a good while after that to come to the conclusion that I should have listened to my family and friends and not married James. He changed after we were married and then, just as he had given me a thorough education about fashion and style, he taught me his version of what marriage was supposed to be like and how I was to conduct myself as his husband. I somehow found my voice that day and tried to tell him that he was not going to control me and keep me away from my family but he ended up slapping me and telling me right quick that he was too good to me to allow me to disrespect him like that. He quickly took charge of the situation and told me that if I ever tried to leave him, he would find me and kill me. That's when I made the mistake and let him see fear in me. He knew he had me then. I would forever be trapped in his clutches.

That was the first time he took his belt to me. He whipped me and afterwards, he scooped me up in his arms and held me while I sobbed. He comforted me and told me that he didn't want to hurt me and that if I was obedient, I would have the best life with him. I was so afraid, not knowing what to expect next. I didn't want to say or do anything that would set him off again. That night he'd taken me to our bedroom and made love to me. He didn't even have an orgasm himself. I guess that was his way of apologizing and trying to make up to me for hurting me.

James always told me I had a beautiful face and though he would slap me from time to time, he didn't beat me in my face. I knew it had nothing to do with my attractiveness. It was the fact that he didn't want people asking why his husband had bruises all over him. Most of my bruises were in places that could have been easily hidden by my clothing. From that first beating to the one he gave me this morning, I knew one thing was true. I was terrified of him and I really believe with a shadow of a doubt that he would kill me. Therefore I stayed with him. I mean really. Where would I go? He'd taken my friends and separated me from everyone who mattered. He didn't allow me to work. I had dropped out of college when I married him because he wanted to move to Forks. I'd let it all go. I had nothing and nowhere to go.

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