Blood dripped from my mouth. I swallowed back the harsh metallic taste, knowing it all too well. I'd probably seen my own blood more than a doctor sees a patient's in their lifetime. I watched it pool on the light laminate flooring; it was a good job he'd not had carpet. I wondered whether that had been why - because he was so violent. Perhaps the carpet before had been stained in bodily fluids, of girls he'd beaten. I didn't doubt for a second that this was the reason; everyone knew George to lose his temper too easily. He'd mentioned before it was like his brain wasn't right, and I agreed, though it had never been confirmed by a medical professional.
Artemis had even thought he'd had some sort of bipolar disorder, and seeing as they lived together he'd surely know the most. There's things he has refused to tell me about George, and I'm left to wonder. I knew he was different, but now I've learned it's not in the good way.
"Get up." He instructed. I did as I was told, I stood in front of him. I'd not actually remembered hitting the floor, as I'd been so focused on feeling whether I still had teeth. It wasn't a shock to me anymore, I knew he was capable of any soft of bodily trauma. He was stronger than he'd looked.
"Now, do you know why I hurt you?" He asked, putting a finger to my chin to lift my head. I liked his touch most of the time. His hands were slightly course, though mostly soft. They were big, and he held me in the right ways. His brown eyes bore into me, hollowing me out. It was hard to find the words anymore, as he seemed to knock them out of me. I wasn't sure whether it had been fear, or butterflies. Sometimes he was kind; loving. That's why we started dating. But soon after, he turned on me. Anything he doesn't like, he'll punish me for. I thought it was a fetish - some sort of Fifty Shades shit - but it's not. He is just violent.
"Because I laughed when you fell." I replied. He'd been making his way to bed, and tripped over a pillow. It was cute, so I giggled. But he'd taken it to heart, like always, and hurt me.
"Yes, good girl." He let go of my chin, and I felt my stomach churn. I didn't like when his warmth left me.
"Can you hold me?" I asked. I knew I was probably going to be declined, because he didn't love me as much as I loved him. It was worth asking for the small chance he would. I hoped he'd helped me clean up the blood, and my face, but I doubted it. He knew I hated blood, that's why he made me clean it.
"After you wash up." George replied, walking to the bed. I watched sadly as he pulled the single duvet over himself, in the cramped bed. The college dorms were small, and he shared the room with Artemis, meaning we had little left of the room to do stuff with. They had a few decorations here and there, but not much else. Luckily his roommate was often studying in the library, so we had time to ourselves a lot. However, it had also meant George felt free enough to abuse me, because we were alone.
I followed through to the bathroom, looking carefully to my lip. It was purple, blotchy, swollen. I shook my head through tears, I hated that he wilfully hurt me this way. But I couldn't stop him, I was too weak. Plus, one time Art walked in when he'd done something bad, and George only took it out on me more. If anyone knew, he'd murder me.
After I'd finished, I returned to bed with him. It was a tight squeeze, and I wasn't even supposed to sleep in there with him, but George said he liked being so close, and that I wasn't allowed to leave. I needed to prove my loyalty to him. I hadn't minded much; I was a highschool senior and he'd been a college senior. 18, 21. The difference may be large for our age, however we got on well. My parents didn't like it too much, but they were rarely home. My mom worked for a law firm an hour away, and my father in Hong Kong. Often she'd stay in hotels and such, so I spent the night here. Either that or George would call me at 2am asking me to come over.
He placed his arm on my shoulders, lovingly. I wondered if his anger had worn off, if he was back to himself. When he was happy, he was amazing. He would shower me in love, affection. It was hard to know where exactly the line was between the normal and the 'hulk', and I didn't think I would learn for a while.
His hand slid down my side, gripping at my hips. I rolled my eyes, he'd always been horny. I didn't like it much, but I allowed it simply because I'd only make it worse for myself. I felt his sloppy kisses on my neck as he shifted his weight beside me, beginning to move on top of me. I gritted my teeth. I couldn't say no.
He'd left after college. Left after he had caused me so much pain. He'd done the worst things possible, and yet still fucked off away from me, away from us. I'd kept in contact with William and Lake over Twitter, but I didn't know whether or not they knew what really went on. Looking back, I don't see how anyone believed that I'd been 'clumsy', unless they'd been truly idiotic. In the two years George and I spent together, there wasn't a week that I didn't have a new bruise.
I had enjoyed the time I spent with him, the late night trips to stores, lakes and filming Filthy Frank, helping his friends with costumes and studies, but it had also been the worst time of my life for the same reason. I had no time to myself due to George's YouTube, and also because he would barely allow me to leave. I failed my exams, and I'd ended up gaining a life-threatening condition because of him- yet he just left.
Since then, I hadn't been with anyone else. Physically, or emotionally. I focused purely on dance, and finally it had paid off. I had a show tomorrow, along with elites from my group. We'd been singled out to perform, and hopefully show other dance judges and audiences that we're worthy of bigger things. If it goes well, I could be truly professional. That way I could pay my bills well, and have fun. That's what George was allowed to do with his new career.
I still wondered what it would be like if he hadn't have left. If I'd be happier, fuller. Instead I lost everything with him, watching from the sidelines as he gained his fame and following. Now, he seemed different. Yet, I couldn't truly know, as he'd not given much information to the public. The only thing I knew was he could sing, and on camera he was a nice person. William had told me about his ex, Chloe Burbank, whom he treated well. Although I hated hearing it, I was hopeful he was happy with her, and didn't hurt her. William had mentioned him showering her in gifts though, which is what he'd do with me after the guilt of the pain he inflicted sunk in. So maybe he hasn't changed at all.
I'll never know.
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