painkillers. - H.S ✔

mara

"Hi!" His voice was deep, raspy and a British accent was added somewhere into the mix. I couldn't help but wonder to myself what this British man was doing in one of the smallest towns in the state.

"I'm Mara." I gave him a smile which brightened his facial expression. Mara; I did like that name. This lie was different than the others. It kind of just slipped out. And he believed it; surprisingly.

I wouldn't ever talk to him enough for him to know that my name isn't Mara. My nicknames had never crossed onto ones like Mara. They'd always been Elle or Mar, or like Trent would call me...Mari. But I liked Mara. And so did this stranger.

"Mara.," he tapped his index finger which a silver ring sat on against his stubbled chin.

"I really like that name. Very beautiful."
I couldn't help but blush. No one had ever called anything about me beautiful before. Trent called me pretty. But he never meant it.

"Thanks."

"I'm Harry." Harry extended his hand. At first, I hesitated. I didn't know this man. And if Trent found out I'd even stepped two feet towards him, my eye would be as black as his soul.
I shook it anyways, his grip was firm but soft. If that even made any sense.

Somehow the silence echoed through the dull hallway. Nothing could cut through this silence. Not even the sharpest knife in the world. Or so I thought.

"Mar? With the hell?" I closed my eyes as I felt tears begin to spring into my eyes. Harry would never understand the pain. Emotional and physical. I loved Trent with all of my shriveled up and broken heart but the pain was too much.

"Meet our new neighbor, Harry." Trent's frown grew into a smile as he greeted the curly haired man.

"Nice to meet you! I see you've already met my girlfriend." At first, I thought he'd spoil my lie. But he didn't. He knew. He heard.

Harry's smile turned down into a slight frown. He was trying to be polite. But I noticed his disappointment. I stiffened as Trent's hand fell to the small of my back.

"Nice meeting you Harry! We'd better get in!" Trent rushed me in without the blink of an eye. The words were ready to roll off of the tip of my tongue. I knew his were too.

"Slut! That's fucking rich Mar! So fucking rich!" I tried to shush him, Harry would hear. He'd move out.

"I-I didn't do anything! I didn't even tell him my real name!" He didn't care.

"Look here! Now she's begging for my forgiveness! You always come back to me, Mari. Because I'm your soulmate, we love each other. But you're acting like a little slut and you need to be punished." I couldn't help it, the tears just strolled down my cheeks. I could beg on my knees for years and years. But he would always hit me. He would always make me pay.

It all happened so fast. Trent's hand on my neck, my back against the wall. My mascara-stained tears fell onto my cheeks. Someone pounding on the door. Me wheezing.

Maybe Harry wouldn't move out. Maybe he'd convince me that I should.

-
American hotline for domestic abuse:1-800-799-SAFE (7233).

Website link for more information and numbers:
http://www.thehotline.org

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