My Paradise

That old mirror

Once again, I found myself staring into that old mirror, judging my body as I had multiple times before.

The first time was years ago, when I was pregnant... I had complained that I looked fat and was sad my clothes wouldn't fit properly anymore.

Wyatt had told me that I looked beautiful and then talked to my tummy, that consisted of a baby, about how grumpy I was being

Then about a year after, I was starting to hate the marks that had made their home on my body, and so I stood there and stared at the stretch marks on my tummy, reminding me that I once carried a life that never got to live.

Wyatt, once again was there to ensure me that there was nothing wrong with me. He kissed the places where some of the marks were and proceeded to tell me that he loved me no matter what.

And of course, I also stood in front of that mirror many times after. Staring at all my imperfections and crying over them.

And every single time, Wyatt was there to reassure me that I was fine... I was beautiful.

But this time... This time I stood there and looked at the purplish-blackish marks that painted my skin.

I just stood there and looked at them silently. My lips trembling as I gently touched a dark bruise on my stomach.

I wondered where I went wrong... Where it all turned to shit as I faught back the tears that threatened to spill and tried to keep the whimpers in the back of my throat.

Just as every time before, Wyatt was on the bed behind me. But unlike all those other times when he assured me I was perfect with all my imperfections, he just silently stared at me.

He stared at me with emotionless eyes. Like he had no remorse for the bruises on my body. Like he didn't see the damage he has caused me, physically and mentally.

I looked at his reflection in the mirror as a stray tear slipped down my bruised cheek and I wiped it with haste, not wanting to have the power of seeing me cry just by me looking at myself.

"Come here, Les." He ordered calmly but I just stood there, hugging my bare and bruised stomach as if that would make me invisible or keep me safe from him.

Since he saw that I wasn't going to move, not especially to him, anytime soon, he stood up and made his way to me and I didn't make an attempt to move in fear of triggering him.

He stood behind me, his chest pressed lightly against my back as he wrapped his arms around me, hugging me close and resting his chin on my shoulder. My body tensed up by reflex, but he didn't seem to care as he made intense eye contact with me through the mirror and smiled sweetly, dimple and all, then kissed along my bare shoulder and neck.

He hummed in satisfaction as he licked my collar bone while I just stiffly stood there and took it all, keeping my tears and whimpers at bay.

His touch now repulsed me. I didn't get how he could abuse me the way he does one minute, and then act like everything was fine the next while my body looked the way it did.

I just couldn't comprehend it.

"You know I love you, right?" He asked softly as he rubbed my waist.

I kept quiet as I kept my eyes on him, his eyes also on mine. "You love me too, right?" I didn't answer as my gaze lowered to his hands that were tightly wrapped around my waist. "Right?"

He moved his eyes from the mirror to the side of my face to stare me down, but I still said nothing.

"Right??" He asked more eagerly as he hugged me tighter, almost squeazing me like a snake. "Right, baby? You love me too, huh?" He said almost maniacally as his hand slid up to my neck and started gradually squeazing.

"Yes..." I let out, my breath barely above a whisper as I tried to breath and a tear slipped from my eye.

He smiled so wide, he looked like a kid. That annoying dimple of his making itself visible and mocking me. He let go of my throat and looked back into my eyes through the mirror.

"Of course you do."

When he was done toying with me, he kissed my bruised cheek and left the room. Leaving me standing there, vulnerable and broken and afraid.

He used to reassure me that I was beautiful everytime I stood in front of that mirror and found a new flaw.

But now...

... Now he just didn't care.

I had never thought I would ever find myself in such a situation. I really never thought I would be a statistic. I mean, what did I do wrong to deserve this?

I'm not saying everyone else who goes through abuse deserve it, they don't... No one does. It's just... What did we do go deserve such terrible luck?

I sat on the ground, my back on the cold mirror and I let the tears fall freely down my cheeks. I had cried so many bitter tears these past few years.

Tears of pain, of hurt...

I sometimes wonder how the sweet guy who wanted to keep me company during break went.

I didn't really like him back then, I didn't have much reason to, but he grew on me. He showed me a side of him that I didn't really have much of a choice but to like.

Who had done this to him? Was it the loss of our child that had triggered this monster? That was the only thing I could think of, honestly because other than that, he really didn't have much of a reason to behave the way he was behaving.

He had made me love him... And now, now I feared him.