-twenty

The bed-side table stared right back at me. Painkillers, an alarm clock and Eric's keys lay idly on it. At the thought of his name, a tear slipped from my eye.

He was in the shower. I could hear the water running. Apart from my throbbing head and aching stomach, I felt considerably fine. I still didn't know the severity of my head wound yet and I was hoping for nothing serious. Blinking, I sucked in a sharp breath as I sat up. I ignored the blood on the bed.

My head hit the pillow the second I heard the water stop pouring. I didn't want him to know I was awake. I still didn't know what to make of last night. I still didn't know what to make of my life.

Five minutes later, the bathroom door opened. My eyes shut tightly as Eric's scent hit my nostrils. Soft footsteps filled the air and I soon felt his presence beside me. I could see him through the small opening I created between my eyelids. He thought I was still asleep.

"You're beautiful when you're asleep."

There was some shuffling and I opened my eyes a little more to see clearer. He was sitting on the floor.

"Fuck. You'll hate me. And I won't be-."

My reflexes betrayed me when I saw his hand move closer to me. I flinched and he blinked at my sudden reaction, hand remaining frozen in the air. I drifted away from him as fast as I could.

"Stay away from me." My voice was coarse, probably from all the screaming and crying last night. I wrapped my robe around my body more tightly than I'd ever done.

The torment and anguish that flashed through his eyes sent a piercing pang to my heart. I couldn't stop the tears that gathered in my eyes. His usually vibrant eyes were dull and distressed. He looked exhausted. He looked defeated.

I shook my head.

This was what he wanted. He already abused me physically and emotionally. He wanted to do it psychologically too.

"Roxy, listen to me. I-."

"I don't have to and I won't."

I scrambled out of the bed. Away from him. Being close to him made me feel too many things all at the same time. Pain, hate, love, anger and worst of all, fear. That wasn't healthy. That much I knew.

Eric stood up and I swallowed. My lips quivered and all the butterflies in my stomach erupted. What if he tried to hurt me again? I took some steps back.

He was shirtless with the chain necklace I got him dangling from his neck. He had black jeans on and was barefooted.

"Dollface, please."

"Don't fucking call me that!"

The sound of the name clawed at my skin. The way he pronounced it, the memories I had with it, how he said it, everything, made it feel like thorns were digging into my flesh. Almost like worms were crawling all over me.

"Roxy-."

"Roxy what?" My voice broke as the pressure in my chest increased.

He raped me last night.

Eric raped me last night.

With wet cheeks, my tired, stinging eyes met his. "You're a monster." Tears rolled down my cheeks when I blinked. "You're sick. And you're not a real man because no real man would do what you've done." I said even when I knew it wasn't entirely true. Any woman who'd been with him testified to it.

Eric was a real man.

A good one so that's why none of what happened last night made any sense to me.

"Roxy," he coolly started, "last night was a mistake. I don't know," he rubbed his temples in frustration, "something happened. The guys, they must have spiked my drink or-."

"Stop making up excuses because to me," I stated, pointing to my chest, "you're just a psychotic-."

"Please don't say it."

"-rapist."

Eric closed his eyes in pain.

I wanted to hurt him. I wanted him to hurt on the inside. I wanted him to feel what I was feeling even though I knew it wasn't possible. Moving to the bathroom, I opened the door and turned around one last time. Through my wet, blurred vision, I saw him collapse on the bed with palms to his head.

I got rid of the robe and filled the bathtub with water. I needed to get his damn, disgusting, irritating, overwhelming smell off me. I needed to wash him away from my skin, from my insides, from me! More tears clouded my vision and spilled as I grabbed my body wash.

Relaxing into the water, my eyes opened at a sharp, piercing sensation on the side of my head. My hand instinctively went to it. I'd forgotten my injury. Reaching for the mirror, I inspected the side of my head.

It was just a cut. Not too deep and didn't need stitches. I sighed in relief. One less thing to think about. Relaxing into the bathtub again and ignoring the pain, I only stopped when I was fully submerged in the water. I breathed out all the air from my lungs and just stayed there, in the cool, still silence.

"Eric, just stop with all this already. Please!"

"You think I don't know about the implant?"

I stared at the monster before me with wide eyes.

"And you think I don't know about the abortion?"

I flinched at the intensity of his voice.

How did he find that out?

"Eric, I-."

"That's not all dollface. I also know about the fucking blonde you screwed at the restaurant bathroom."

My eyes widened an inch more.

"Could've sworn you had more class than that but once again, I've been proven wrong." His words were taunting but his voice more than reflected his anger.

"Eric, please, I-."

"The fact remains, implant or no implant, I don't care."

I tried moving backwards but my back hit the bed frame.

"Tonight, you'll be screaming my name cause I'm gonna fuck you till you get pregnant." Eric moved closer and the heaviness of my breathing exponentially multiplied.

Gripping both sides of the tub, I threw my head out of the water. Coughing violently for a few seconds, I laid on my back and panted for air. My nose and throat were on fire as I stared at the crystal clear water. So that's how drowning victims felt.

The door of the bathroom closed with a click as I strutted into the room. I went about my business, ignoring the fact that he looked terrible, terribly in pain.

Eric wasn't one to express his pain, much less through tears but here he was, crying with me in the room. I knew he was in pain. I knew he was hurting because he hurt me and also because he was the reason for my pain. I knew last night was as traumatic for him as it was for me but I chose to ignore all of that as I picked up my suitcase.

With shaking hands and a completely blurred vision, I threw all my make-up and beauty supplies into my suitcase. It took every rational bone in me to not rip the suitcase in two and fall to the ground in pain and anguish. For me to not cry my eyes out until he wrapped his arms around and told me everything was going to be alright.

But it wasn't.

Because he hurt me. Because he was the reason I was leaving. Because he destroyed everything we'd suffered to build.

"What are you doing?"

When I heard footsteps approaching me, my eyes reflexively drifted to the top of the counter and I grabbed the first thing I could find. I stared at the pocket knife in disbelief for a second. How didn't I find it last night?

Eric halted immediately and his eyes widened when I gestured to him, eyes flickering from mine to the knife.

"If you so much as move an inch closer to me, I will dismember you."

With Eric's hands raised up in surrender, I let a few seconds go by before continuing with packing. I spotted Eric's fingers shoved into his hair numerous times. Just like me, he only did that when he was angry, sad or frustrated. I couldn't care less which one it was.

After packing all my essentials, the things my messed up head could remember, I turned around and found Eric directly in front of me. My eyes dropped with him as he slowly went down, knee after knee. I didn't break eye contact.

"If you leave, I'll die."

Seeing this much desperation, pain, regret in his eyes was like placing my heart in a shredder. So my eyes went to my suitcase instead.

"I'll overdose. I'll get myself killed in a bar or I'll even jump off a bridge but if you leave, I'll find a way to die."

My eyes went back to him.

"Don't leave me. Please."

"You're begging?" a humorousless laugh escaped my lips. "When I begged you to stop last night, what did you do?"

Eric, for the millionth time, closed his eyes in pain. "I'm sorry," he said and I could see new tears forming and threatening to spill from his beautiful eyes.

Moving closer to him, I bent so we were at eye level. "I pray the guilt kills you first."

Throwing on my sunglasses, I rolled my suitcase as I exited the room. Stopping for one last glance, he still hadn't moved. He was still on his knees. With as much venom and poison I could produce, I uttered my last words to him.

"Fuck you."

***************

-C