Viva I'Italia

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Theo: 

It's like he's haunting me. The thoughts never leave my mind, even when I'm with him. I think back to how it felt, how it still feels. I trace the line of my scar through my shirt. I feel it always. The slight burning I feel at all times, like a constant reminder. I remember how it felt, the blood on my hands. 

"You're going to be okay, I'm right here." The man says, holding pressure o my side. I feel it, the stabbing pain..

"Did he stab me? Am I going to die?" I look up. 

"I won't let that happen. You're going to be okay. I've got you." The sirens blare. 

"21 year-old female. Stab wound to the abdomen, starting below the umbilicus, finishing below her left arm. She lost a lot of blood but she's conscious." I feel him telling the doctors. 

"Don't leave me." I grab his hand. He nods. 

"I'm not going anywhere." 

~~~~~

I wake up, it's so bright. I hear a voice next to me.

"Hey you." He sits next to my bed. The paramedic. 

"What happened?" 

"You were stabbed by your boyfriend. You had to have surgery to ensure there was no internal bleeding and close the wound." I reach over, moving my gown out of the way. A large bandage covering most of my stomach. I pull it down.

"He's my ex. Clearly now since he almost killed me." I try to make a joke. Lighten the mood. 

"Do you want to talk about it? I'll listen." He moves his chair closer. 

"He's been hurting me for years. Emotionally, physically. I was always scared of him." I breathe. Not looking at him. 

"I was late. The cab took a wrong turn and had to go around the bloc, but you know traffic in Boston. It's always busy. So it took me longer to get home. He tried to call but my phone had died. He was mad when I got home because he couldn't reach me. He accused me of cheating on him. When I denied it, he hit me. He got on top of me.." I feel the tears start to well up my eyes. 

"You don't have to talk if you don't want to. They have enough to put him away." He said. 

"How though?" I asked, finally looking at him. His green eyes find mine. 

"When we got there, he was beating you, but not before you got the chance to get him back, he was a little beat up too. Broken nose, broken tooth. The cops figured out what happened when you told them he hurt you. You had old bruises, in different stages of healing. The signs of constant abuse. He didn't admit it, but he wouldn't talk and asked for a lawyer." He said. 

"I remember he got on top of me. When I kicked him off, I beat him. He pulled his knife, I remember that now." I look down at my stomach again. 

"Will it go away?" I said. Taking about the future scar, a constant reminder. 

"Probably not. It'll fade as time goes on but it will probably always be there. But when you look at it, think about how strong you are. He's going away for a long time and you don't have to be scared. You will be, scared of everyone, of loving anyone again. Letting people in. But you are stronger than you know." He smiles. 

"How do you know?" I ask. He pulls up his shirt. A small scar shows through, the same area where mine will be. Just smaller. 

"Iraq. I was stationed there for a year before I got shot. I was released from the hospital and I didn't go back. I became a paramedic instead. It reminds me everyday that I could've died there, in the sand and heat. But I didn't, and I'm stronger because of it." He sits. 

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