TW// domestic violence
She could hear the sound of her alarm clock beeping loudly, signaling her to wake up and face yet another day. She doesn't feel anything quite yet, her sense of where she was at in the world was still in a dream state. Oh, what a great dream she was having. She was at a hospital, a big- no- huge one. She was in the middle of her surgery- an appendectomy she assumed- when she looked up, catching the eyes of someone, someone she couldn't quite put a name to, but she knew that this person was smiling. And that smile? Oh, she really liked that smile, even though she couldn't remember it, nor had she ever seen it before.
She was really liking her dream.
She finally decides that it was time to open her eyes, but she couldn't.
Well, one of them at least.
It's then she feels it.
The pain.
The uncontrollable ba bump ba bump she feels throbbing behind her right eye. The pain was cursing through her, her blood, her systems. She felt it everywhere.
It was then she realizes that the pain was coming from another source as well. Her back.
Kick
Kick
Kick
She feels the tip of his expensive shoes barrel into her spine again and again as she cries out, begging him to stop.
"Paul please!" she pleads, trying to scramble her way into a sitting position before her husband can do any more damage.
But she struggles, because she forgot about the fracture of her right wrist. "Shit" she hisses out, a whole new round of pain surging threw her body from putting pressure on that one limb.
It was then that Paul stopped, towering over her broken figure, grabbing both of her wrists and pinning them above her head, so she had no way to escape his hold. "You know damn well what you did Brooke." he says venomously, little traces of spit flying onto her face.
He looks at her, his gaze so full of pure hatred and jealously. His eyes scan over her broken body. Bruises covering her stomach and back, some on the inside of her thighs. The marks make him feel a sense of pride. He was winning.
Brooke shakes her head, tears coming down her cheeks so quickly she wasn't sure is she would ever be able to get them to stop. "N-no I don't. Im sorry Paul. I-im sorry f-for whatever I did." she stutters out, choking on her own words as she feels the lump in her throat grow more and more form trying to keep her sobs at bay.
"You lying whore!" he exclaims, roughly pulling her wrists from the headboard and pushing her to the ground, causing her to let out another cry of pain as she lands on the fresh bruises on her back.
The woman whimpers, trying to crawl into the corner of the room, bringing her knees up to her chest and putting her head between them, hoping that this was just nightmare.
She hoped that the past three years were just a nightmare, and she had just yet to wake up.
But to no luck, it wasn't. It was reality. The cruel, cruel reality that she lived in.
"Who the hell is emailing you Brooke? Huh! Who the fuck is Brody?" he sneers at her, referring to the email he saw on her computer earlier that morning,
Oh no, she thinks to herself. How could she be so stupid? How could she forget to delete the email?
Brooke swallows, trying to get her breathing under control. Paul didn't like it when she stuttered. He said it made her sound too much like a little girl. "H-he is a new guy from work. He wanted to get to know everybody better, so he sent out some emails." she tells him, speaking to him the truth.
