"I don't want to watch your stupid baking show!" She screams. I feel her palm crash into my left cheek. My eyes start to water.
"Oh, stop crying, you baby! Give me the remote." I'm pretty used to her bullying me over my softness. She says guys should be tough. Realizing all I can do without getting hit again is give her the remote, I sigh and hand it over. I put my hand up to my cheek, feeling the numbness die down and turn into soreness.
"Get me chips from the kitchen," She demands. Then, she changes my show to The Punisher.
I nod quickly, making my way to the kitchen. The abuse isn't something new. It's happened ever since she convinced me to move in with her. I really didn't want to, but she insisted that it would get us closer. It's certainly showing her true colors, but I don't think we're getting any closer.
"Where are the snacks, Charlie?" She yells from her spot on the couch. I search the cabinets for potato chips. I finally get my hands on a bag. It takes a lot longer than it should. Then, I rush back to the living room.
"Here you go, Babe."
She glares at the bag. "Are you stupid?" She says quietly.
"What?" I ask, nervous. She said chips, right?
She chucks the opened chips at me, spilling them everywhere. "You know I like Doritos!" She whines.
"Okay," I say quietly. I grab Doritos for her, get a vacuum, and return to the living room. After delivering her chips, I clean up the mess on the floor.
"Don't forget the party tonight," She tells me, still annoyed. I nod. She then softens enough to ask, "Wanna watch with me? I'm sorry for dropping the chip bag and hitting you earlier. I won't do it again; my anger just has a way of controlling me."
"Dropping? You threw them. At me." I reply.
She looks at me, disgusted. "Hey, at least I'm apologizing. You didn't say sorry for giving me the wrong chips! You're so lucky that I'm a forgiving person."
"Forgiving? You slapped me for turning on a show that you didn't want to watch!" I shoot back. I feel tears stinging my eyes. I cry when I'm angry.
"Shut up! Just shut up! Who do you think you are?" She screeches.
I walk away. There's nothing else to say. Who doI think I am? Someone who doesn't deserve this. But I don't want to leave her. When she's nice, she's okay. Sometimes she just has a bad day and needs to take it out on someone.
I lay on the bed, scrolling through my Twitter feed. A few girls holding margaritas posted a picture with the caption: Pre-gaming ;)
Right. That party. At the same time I remember, Samantha knocks on the door, quickly opening it and coming into the room.
"What? So now you're not going to the party with me because I made you mad? You should be getting ready by now," She whimpers, kicking off her heels and climbing next to me in bed. I am still pissed at her. I don't feel like talking. She always does this. We fight, then she'll come and try to make everything better, but it still hurt when she said it. She puts her head on my chest, purposefully trying to get me to smell her golden curls. Unfortunately, I fall into her trap. She smells like cherries.
"I was out of line earlier, and I am so sorry," She whispers. I kiss her head gently.
"It's okay, let's go to the party."
She smiles and jumps up saying, "I love you!" then runs to the bathroom to finish her makeup. Honestly, she's beautiful. In high school, she was Prom Queen for our junior/senior prom. Prom King was Tyler Pierce. I don't know why she chose me over him. He's 6'1, has curly brown hair, silver eyes, and ripped. Most importantly, he liked her. No idea why she would go for a wimp like me. Black hair and brown eyed me.
YOU ARE READING
She Can't Hurt You
RomanceTW: The main character is a victim of domestic violence. The scenes aren't too gory, but they could trigger someone. Viewer discretion advised. Charlie and his girlfriend have been dating for a while, and she's finally convinced him that they sho...
