If I Love Myself[On Hold]

Chapter 1

Love The Way You Lie, Eminem

Quote;

You will never rise above who you are, if you don't rise above where you are.
~ Iyanla Vanzant

Chapter 1. (Trigger Warning: Abuse and sexual assault aftermath)

     He plants a kiss against my cheek and a shiver runs down my spine. I close my eyes, body aching all over, but mainly between my thighs. The same lips that he uses to kiss me are used to curse my name. The voice he uses to tell me he loves me, is used to tell me that he hates me, that if I were to suddenly disappear, no one would even know. No one would even care.

     The saddest part is, I know it's true.

     Julian tears the sheets off of me and I wrap my arms around myself, the cold air nipping at my bare skin. Looking down, I take notice of blood spatters that have stained the sheets. Remnants of blood in between my legs.

     A lump forms in my throat and tears well in my eyes. The sudden urge to scream overwhelms me, but instead I remain silent. The tips of Julian's fingers graze my chin, his eyes staying glued to my face.

     His fingertips graze the bruise on my cheek, and I stiffen. "You live in my house, you sleep in my bed, you eat my food, and wear the clothes I buy for you. If you fucking listened, shit wouldn't be so bad for you."

     Nodding, I swallow the lump in my throat as he continues. "Disobedience isn't tolerated, you need to learn to do what I say, when I say. Or would you like me to throw you out, go back to being the little whore you were when I found you?"

     A strangled sob passes my lips and he smiles, satisfied. Getting out of the bed, Julian takes one more look at the stained sheets. "Wash those and clean up, you look like shit."

     Julian gets off the bed, grabbing his underwear off the floor. He hurries over towards the door, slamming it behind himself. Quickly wiping away the tears on my cheeks, I attempt to sit up and am instantly hit with a seering pain traveling down my spine. Forcing myself to get off the bed despite the pain, I cling onto the nightstand for support. I've had worse injuries.

     Willing myself to move forward, another sharp pain coarses through me. Only this time it's in my chest. I open the door to the bathroom, and softly close it behind me, not wanting to make too much noise. Twisting the lock I turn and stare back at the girl in front of me.

     Dark and ugly bruises that now coat my skin, taunt me in the mirror the longer I stare. A vicious reminder of last nights events, of what happens when I say no, that what I want does not matter. Come to think of it, I can't think of one time that it ever has.

     I can't say how long I stood in the shower. Scrubbing and clawing at my skin like some kind of animal. In this moment, I'd do anything to be anyone but who I am right now. I feel dirty.

     All the soap and water in the world will never make me shake the feeling of his hands. The rough way he tossed me about like a rag doll. His hands - his hands traveled lower and lower, until they stopped at a place I never gave him permission to enter.

     Turning off the water I step out, wasting no time in wrapping a towel around me. The last thing I ever want to do is stare at my body again. It does not feel like mine now anyways.