'he loves you, he was just angry' i remind myself, wiping my tears.
'he loves you, he was just angry' i remind myself, hopping out of the shower after two hours, scrubbing his smell off me.
'he loves you, he was just angry' i remind myself, sitting at an awkward angle, since i couldn't sit directly on my butt.
'he loves you, he was just angry' i remind myself, applying a cream to the bruises he left on me.
╰┈➤
ever since the fight with my mother, i've been having nightmares and flashbacks more often. the reminders of younger me, and how utterly alone i was.
whoever said confronting your demons would give you closure fucking lied. i spent way too long in the shower today, just scrubbing my body. disgusted with myself for how weak i was, how weak i still am.
i'm at the club right now, it's 5pm on a wednesday. drowning my sorrows in tequila. just as i'm about to pour myself another shot, dave groans next to me and grabs the bottle.
"all right, you're cut off" "what! you can't do that!" i bitch, and he just stares at me. "it's my club, so yes i can. where's your other half?"
"novas at home, thinks i'm at the library" i explain. "should i call her?" "no! don't fucking call her."
he cocks a brow, "i'm sorry, that's the alcohol talking. i'm just stressed. please just one more shot."
"how about you talk to me instead, tell me what happened" i stay silent, not answering him.
thankfully he takes that as a hint. "fine. one more, then you have to talk to me"
"i will" i won't.
he pours me a shot, i don't miss how it's significantly less full then all my others. and walks away. but before i can take the shot, a big, veiny hand snatches the glass and takes my shot.
"motherfu-" i cut myself off when my eyes land on a pair of familiar one. "why are you always here when i am" i grumble and he smirks.
"here" he passes me a glass of something clear, and i raise my eyebrow. "it's water."
i turn around, staring at the bar. but his hand grabs my chin and forces me to look at him. "let me take care of you, peccato sporco"
i fold. opening my lips and he tips my head back, pouring water in my mouth, and i swallow.
suddenly, this innocent act becomes very intimate. i become lightheaded, so i stand up.
"you're drunk, sit down." he orders, but i ignore him, a laugh escaping my throat. "drunk? im tipsy at most" i stumble on my words when he grabs my waist and pulls my back into the chair.
"you're drunk." he states, and i roll my eyes. who cares if i'm drunk? i'm a legal adult i can do whatever the fuck i want to.
we sit in silence, him staring at me, and me staring at the bar, trying my hardest not to stare back.
"you're not going to judge me?" i whisper, and his eyebrows furrow. "judge you? for what?" i laugh, and point at myself. "look at me, i'm a fucking mess, dom"
the corner of his lip tips up and he leans in, whispering "i think you look fucking delicious."
my eyes grow heavy, and words aren't able to come out of my mouth.
i want to say something, but nothing comes out. shit am i that drunk?
"dom" i choke out, stumbling into his chest, the world spinning. the last this i remember is him throwing me over his shoulder, and then i black out.
╰┈➤
jesus, my fucking head hurts.
i groan, opening my eyes and quickly shutting them when a light shines directly in my eyes. i sit up, placing my hands on the floor, feeling something soft under me, bedsheets?
jesus who the fuck is pounding on the wall behind me? wait, never mind. the pounding is my head.
i attempt to open my eyes again, another groan flying past my lips. "what the fuck" i mutter to myself when i see i'm in a room i don't recognise. i look around, the bedroom is modern. this bed is massive, and comfortable. i'm practically sinking into it.
my body instantly kicks into flight mode and i stand up. apparently i stand up too fast because my vision darkens for half a second before going back to normal. i actually stand up this time, walking over to the door when i hear a voice.
"where do you think you're going?" i tumble backwards, screaming at the sudden voice. i turn around, seeing dominic in the corner of this room, sitting on a chair.
"what the fuck is happening!" i yell, wanting an explanation,
"relax,i did this for you. you've been stressing out too much lately, barely sleeping." he coos, not moving from his spot. "you've also been avoiding me."
"so you fucking roofied me?" i yell again, feeling defensive. "i drugged you, not roofied. i didn't touch you, just let you sleep for a little while. and yes, i haven't spoken to you in four days, ayda. i'm going crazy over here"
"what time is it?" i ask, ignoring the last part and calming down a little. his gaze travels to his wall and i look at the clock. "3:40am? i've never slept that long."
"you're welcome." jesus, he's so sassy. "where am i?" i question. "my house, where else?"
"you could've dropped me off at my dorm" i mutter, and he nods. "i could've." he leaves it at that.
"why are you just sitting there, have you been watching me sleep" he nods again, slowly. "all ten hours." he says it so casually, like that's normal.
my eyes widen, and my knees weaken. why is that hot? "just, watching?" i choke out. "and thinking" he replies. i stutter over my words, not knowing how the hell to reply to that. when i look down at my clothes, seeing i'm still in an uncomfortable shirt and jeans.
"do you-?" he cuts me off, pointing to the end of the bed, and i see some clothes neatly folded on the end of it.
"this doesn't mean i forgive you for roofying me." i point out, and he narrows his eyes. "drugging" he corrects, and i scoff muttering "tomayto tomahto."
walking through the door i'm assuming is a bathroom, i lock the door behind me and undress into a shirt, that almost goes up to my knees, and a pair of his boxers, using them as shorts since anything else would've needed a belt.
i look in the mirror and almost cry when i see the state of me. i use my fingers to brush through my hair, and turn on the tap, using water to rub off mascara that probably rubbed off due to shuffling in my sleep.
i walked out awkwardly, rubbing my arm and he stands up, walking up to me. he looks into my eyes for a couple of seconds before whispering "talk to me. please" i melt into him
"i can't" i whisper back, and he picks me up, walks me over to his bed and places me down. he puts blanket over my lap and sits down in front me. "you can, i'm not here to judge you, peccato sporco. i'm here to listen"
"tell me your story, ayda winters." he tucks a loose strand of hair behind behind my ear, and then cups one side of my face. bringing me a sense of comfort. "i promise i'll listen."
i sigh, crawling backwards on the bed, and pat the bed next to me, signalling him to lay down next to me. "it's dirty" i say, disgusted with myself once again.
"i like you dirty" he smirks at me and i roll my eyes, biting back a smile. "don't look at me while i speak, and don't interrupt me" i order, and he listens. staring at the roof. and for the first time in my life, i tell someone my story.
"growing up, my mother and father never showed any love towards one another, it's weird to think that there was a time where they didn't fight. my dad would slap her around every now and then, but she had a backbone and would hit back. one time it got out of hand, and he crashed one of his beer bottles against her head. i didn't know what to do so i called the police, when they arrived my dad was furious, but my mother assured them she was fine. they took her to the hospital and left me with him. that was the first time he raped me." i whispered the last part, shame crawling through my throat, but i swallowed it back down, and continued. not looking at his face.
"the first time he did it, he was drunk and wasn't thinking straight. he came inside me, and i was eleven. already on my period so i could've gotten pregnant. the day after, when he was sober he took me to a doctor and they gave me some pills, and that was that. when we got home, he sat me down and told me it was my fault. told me i can never call the police.
"of course i listened. i was a kid, and i was scared. the next time fights got out of hand with them, instead of calling the police i'd intervene, fight him too. he got mad at me again, and raped me again. this time in my butt, less of a problem for him i guess." i shrugged fighting back tears.
"my mother knew" i hauntingly whisper. "she knew, because she'd hear me screaming. i know she did. one time he'd left the door open, she walked past. looked at me in the fucking eyes, she looked at him for a second. looked at him raping his own daughter. then walked to the kitchen, and made dinner."
i felt his hand cover mine, and my heart clenched, but i didn't stop. "his abuse started with slaps, some punches, words too. and ended with rape." tears leaked down my face, when he was sure i was done talking, he got up, cupped my face, leaning forward, he kissed my tears and a sob left my throat.
he wrapped his arms around my waist, and let me lean on him. i don't know how long we sat there, me crying, and him whispering comforting words to me.
"they don't deserve you, baby, they never will." he says, drawing circles on my arm in a comforting way. he doesn't ask any questions, i know he wants to, but he doesn't. and i'll forever be thankful.