Plenty was her name. A whispy nothing of a girl was she, whose only goal in life was to get through it. She didn’t have a lot of friends. The ones she did have rarely called. She did have a boyfriend though, because most sad eyed girls need a reason to get out of bed. Too bad her boyfriend was one of the reasons she dreaded getting up in the first place.
“I love you, you know, that’s why I do it, because I love you and I can’t lose you. It’s all because I love.” Those were his words as he put fist to face. Her face.
“Do people in love always hurt each other?” Her little sister would ask when she’d see Plenty wiping away tears.
“Sometimes,” she would reply, all the time, she’d think
Plenty would hear the words of various people chime in their thoughts of how she deserved better. But none of them did anything for her besides talk.
Things weren’t always bad. Sometimes they were actually good. Sometimes he would spoil her. They’d go for walks, talk about building a life together. He’d kiss her and tell her she was his world. He’d pick flowers from the neighbor’s yard and even though she knew where they came from it never felt less special. Sometimes he was her prince charming.
Sometimes he was her nightmare.
“Dirty slut!” He’d yell as he pushed her against the wall. He was a raging, drug abusing lunatic at times, who assumed every guy to walk past Plenty was making a pass at her.
On good days he’d scream at her until she was ready to explode. On bad days…
Sometimes she’d take the train to town, turn off her phone and just walk among the crowd getting lost in the rhythm of the city. She wondered if others were feeling the way she was. If the other girls she’d see going in out of the shops were also terrified of the one’s they love.
Plenty could feel herself numbing to his touch. It didn’t hurt less but it was starting to feel natural. Something in her told her to run, as if becoming accustomed to the abuse was the ultimate sign of defeat. But how can you make your heart leave something it’s so attached to. She was even beginning to defend him, side with him, believe she deserved the abuse.
It must be my fault somehow. Why else would he treat me like this. It’s me. I’m the problem. She cut herself off from her friends. First the guys then the girls. The less people to explain the bruises to, the better. She stopped going to class. She couldn’t pay attention anyway when her face and body were throbbing. She’d stand in front of the mirror picking herself apart. I should be prettier, smarter, better. I have to do better…for him. If I do everything perfect, everything he wants, he’ll love me more and it will stop. The pain will stop.
He was pleased for a while. He seemed content for a while. He’d wrap his arms around her, take her hands in his gently, kiss her softly…for a while. But the monster in him would come back. It always came back.
Plenty was about to head for the train once when her boyfriend’s sharp voice stopped her at the door.
“Where the hell do you think you’re going?”
“I’m meeting my sister.” She replied shaking.
“LIAR!” He yelled. “You’re a fucking liar and I’m sick of you. I’m sick of everything about you.”
“I’m not lying. I…” she sobbed. Usually she’d hold back the tears but today she couldn’t.
“Stop crying you lying slut.”
She couldn’t. She couldn’t stop crying.
“Shut up!” He screamed. “Shut the fuck up!”
He grabbed her, banging her head against the door.
“Stop!” She cried out.
He took her by the hair and dragged her down. Foaming at the mouth with all his anger seeping out of his body like sweat.
Plenty didn’t fight it. She didn’t feel it was worth it. As his hands chocked the life out of her she almost smiled. It can stop now. He can’t hurt me anymore.
Story: By December.
Pictures: credit to owners