This Was 4 in the Morning, and My God, It Was Interesting

A short story about abuse, not a long piece of writing. Mainly written to see if I could properly emulate some real-life abuse, while maybe showing others how bad abusive relationships can get.

I pulled into the drive, my eyes watering slightly. My body shook with an uncontrollable coldness, only it was more internal than anything else. I could feel the saliva in my mouth drying up, and all of my senses became more acute, animalistic instincts. It's primal, fear, I was afraid, I could feel myself freezing in it, like an icy aura was slowing my basic motor skills. I looked at the clock on the radio inside the car, the bright green digital numbers flashing coldly in my eyes. 10:37 P.M., they taunted me. 10:37 P.M., and you're late, you stupid b***h, better hurry. Do you want more scabs and bruises on your arm like the ones you have now? From where he gripped you ever so gingerly the last time he told you he was 'worried'. I sighed quietly to myself, and pulling to the end of the dark drive, I cut the engine, and was encompassed in blackness. All aside from the semi-distant lights that shined from the windows of the house. Which, more or less, depending where you looked through it, looked hazy from the blotchy, stained windshield. I rested my head briefly on the steering wheel, and let a few small tears trickle out of the corners of my eyes, and clutched the wheel a little harder than I ought to have. I heard a flimsy creaking as I did so, and quickly retracted my hands, knowing I'd get beat something fierce if I ruined our 'new' car. If you consider a '03 Grand Am new...Well, in our financial situation, yes, it was a pretty good car. All we could really afford, anyway, after the house...But the house was nice, very much worth the money, very much worth the loans we had to take out to pay for it. It's not the biggest, not the fanciest, but it's...away. And that's all that really mattered, we'd pay off our debts eventually, we just wanted to get away. From the annoying bustle of our town, from the ignorant people, from the ones who said we'd never make it. We wanted to show the world, we're young, but we have hope, and that's a lot for us. I mean...we HAD hope...I think. He just never seems to be who he used to be. He never used to treat me this way, but he worries, I don't like to make him worry, it's really my own fault. Still, looking to the contorted blotches of flesh on my arm, I felt little reassurance as I sighed, and exited the car, walking up the sidewalk. Looking toward the sky in the still, summer night air, I was able to see the stars so clearly, like a flashlight shining through torn black fabric. The light retained all of its eloquence, and I remembered when we were teenagers, when I looked at a night sky, I wondered if he was looking too. It made me feel more like no matter where we were, we always had some kind of connection to each other. Safe...one of my favorite words, only that feeling seemed to be slipping away gradually, with every mistake I make. With every slap. With every "Why can't you be what I need you to be?". With every apology, with every slap. The make-up sex becoming less and less passionate and meaningful, like I'm just a plaything. I snapped my eyes shut tight, and resisted the urge to produce any more tears. What am I thinking? This is Luke I'm thinking about, of course he cares. I still remembered his cute little half-smile when he came up to me by my locker junior year. The gleam in his eyes when he asked me on a date, how much I hoped he would up until then, my face was so hot. I couldn't stop talking about it with my friends, I couldn't stop talking about how happy I was, and how perfect he was. I smiled a little wearily now, and firmly grasped the lukewarm doorknob. Pushing it slowly open, I poked my head inside slowly, to see the lights had gone out on my walk to the house. I opened the door all the way now, and stepped inside, I began to untie my shoelaces as I sat in the chair by the door. And then the kitchen light flickered on, and I knew he was awake. Though he was still hidden by the wall beside the kitchen door, I knew he was there, waiting to come out, or waiting for me to come in. I still could barely make out my own shape, or any others, in this faint light, but it was enough. I set my shoes beside where I believe his were by the door, and walked toward the kitchen. As I drew closer, there was still no sign of him, though he could still be hidden by that little nook, or maybe on the other side of the fridge. Feeling a little uneasy, I tried to call out in a cheery voice, even though I knew I was in trouble.
"Luuukie, I'm hooome, baby!" I half-exclaimed in a quiet voice, and was practically tiptoeing through the kitchen entrance. I turned my head slowly and glanced at the nook I was worried about to my left. There was no sign of him there, the fear began to stir stronger in the pit of my stomach, and I gulped a little too audibly. I quickened my pace to a bit of a more casual one, as I looked on the opposite side of the refrigerator for him. Nothing but the black entrance to the living room. It stood there ominously, like a portal to the abyss right to the right side of the sink.
"He could be standing out there somewhere right now, looking at you." I thought to myself, and shivered slightly at the thought. Imagining a pair of cold, glassy eyes in the darkness eying the somewhat noticeable contours of my body. However, a steadily increasing sedentary lifestyle had contributed to a slight weight gain in the past few years. Though it wasn't more than ten pounds at most, and it didn't seem to bother my Luke.
"Usually." I thought sadly to myself, poking the tiny pocket of fat that had accumulated on my stomach and sighing. I turned back toward the kitchen now, and noticed the sink filled with dirty dishes. A note scrawled in Luke's infamously terrible chicken-scratch was beside the heap of crusty plates, and bowls filled with dried-up liquid.
Babe, it read. when you get home, take care of the dishes. - Luke.
I let out a small exhale of relief. This must mean he's gone to bed already, maybe I wouldn't have to worry about a punishment for being so late. Even though I WAS working. It upsets my Luke if I'm not home on time, and I can sympathize with that, I worry about him, too. I looked back down at my exposed forearm, at the scabs that weren't quite healed from his fingernails. At the yellowish-purple bruises  that lingered as a good reminder. Yes...Luke loves me... I turned my attention to the heaping pile of dishes mountained into a grotesque pile before me, and realized I really had to do them if I wanted him to be happy. I ran some water in the sink, and waited for it to get warm, as I did so, I cleared any scraps of food off of the plates, and took notice of how much we(mostly me, though) waste. Three toast crusts and a third of a small plate of jam. Half a slice of pizza, almost an ENTIRE bagel! My God, I only ate half of it and I didn't even take it off the plate. That was one helluva Saturday morning. Once clearing all this excess off of the plates, I checked the temperature of the running water, which was now scalding.
"Perfect." I muttered tiredly to myself, because, after all, scalding water does make scrubbing much more optional. Much less effort involved, anyway. I plugged the drain, and piled the crusty, oblong disks in first. I hadn't finished more than the third plate when I heard a loud pounding on the wall between the walkway between the living room and kitchen. I jolted back from the sink, and dropped the plate I was drying, I didn't even realize I'd done so until I heard it shatter on the floor beneath me. I stood petrified for a moment, and listened to the clean silence(aside from the pitter-pattering of the uneven water droplets hitting the sink in the opposite side). I quickly turned the faucet off, and looked toward the door. Luke was standing there with a glazed look in his eyes, they didn't shine whatsoever, a lifeless sheen covering them. His expression wasn't angry, it was more-so apathetic, and somehow that was even more frightening, like he was detached entirely. He was shirtless, his muscly upper body finely toned and evident even in the dim light being casted on him. He was wearing his Simpson's boxers, and his charcoal hair was in a rustle. He continued to stare glassily at me, and then shifted his gaze slowly to the broken plate on the floor, only to return his gaze to me. I could feel invisible hands gripping my throat, and my heart thudded in my chest. If this silence carried on much longer, I would have a serious panic attack, so I spoke up.
"I'm sorry, hon, I didn't mean to wake you, and sorry I'm home so late, I was filling in for someone who didn't show up, and I should have called." I spat out as quickly as I could, and he still continued to stare with deadpan eyes at the broken plate. It was the look of a dead man.
"Plate..." he said quietly, and now I understood he was very tired.
"Huh?" I asked dumbfounded, and then looked at the plate, and realized I hadn't even apologized for it yet. "Oh, Luke, I'm so sorry! You startled me a-" his eyes flashed to life with a fiery hatred, and he stared directly into my eyes at that moment, right as he cut me off.
"Don't stand there and uselessly sputter bullshit excuses to me, pick up that Goddamn plate right now! Are you retarded? Angela? Have I been with your for four years and am now just finding out I'm dating a f*****g retard?!" I bit my lower lip as it trembled, and a wiped away a small tear that was forming in my left eye, as I tried to keep my eyes on him.
"No, Luke, I'm sorry, I'll get a broom, please don't be mad at me..." I turned my back, and took a few steps toward the broom, before I was caught by my wrist, and jerked backward. I could feel his icy grip penetrating my skin, his nails digging in hard. I don't know how he did it, they're so short. He clutched my other arm much higher up, around my upper arm with the other hand, and squeezed equally as tight. A look of angry disappointment crossed his face as he jerked me forward a bit before screaming at me.
"YEAH, SHOULDA F*****G CALLED!" he screamed, before throwing me back into the wall. I slammed my back roughly against it before slipping to the floor, falling on my side. Fresh blood seeped lazily out of the shallow gashes he just recently made. The back of my head felt bruised, but I wasn't sure, and if it wasn't now, it sure as s**t would be later. But I wasn't mad, I was actually really hurt, like he didn't trust me, or doesn't like me or something. I did all I could manage.
"L-luke...why did you do th-h..." I struggled to finish as I bursted into tears. I struggled into a sitting position on my knees, and clutched the back of my head gingerly with one hand. With the other, I wiped the tears from my face, the tears that streamed from my eyes like rivers, I couldn't stop the flow. I felt his dark presence overshadow me as I realized he was hovering above me now, casting me into darkness. I hate it when he's like this, when he becomes this person I don't even know, I felt trapped. Like his dark aura was enveloping me, a cage surrounding me in guilt, shame, in...doubt. I felt his hand rest firmly on the top of my head, and all the power surging through it. Not just physical power, like an energy emanating from him, a fierce, black fire that threatened to consume everything. I could feel it burning on top of my head, and the pain of the fire became reality when he pulled my hair. I screamed out in pain, and more tears streamed down my face, they fell to the floor in organized, yet timed intervals. Some alien pattern that made no sense, yet I understood it. He pulled me to my feet, and let go as I stood pathetically on weak legs, my body trembling with fear. I held my petit hands close to my face, rubbing my pale, tiny fingers over each other neverously. And as he stared, I began to straighten my hair with one of my hands as I chewed the nails of the other, frightened. He snatched my wrist, pulling my hand from my mouth, and slammed me back against the wall, never letting his grip falter. Before I could say anything at all, he grabbed my other arm, and pinned it in the same fashion, my arms hung uselessly above my head. I lowered my head, as my hair shrouded my face from view. It gave me a curtain, I let out a few more weak sobs behind the shield, as the tears snaked down my face before falling to their deaths. He squeezed harder, and I heard a low snarl.
"Look at me, look into the eyes of your superior, what have I been teaching you this whole time? Why is it so hard for you to be what I WANT YOU TO BE?!" he released his grip, and I let my arms fall to my sides. I obediently met his gaze, and was greeted with a hot smack across the face. I could feel the blood tingling in my cheek, and I fell in a pathetic heap to the floor as I tripped again. I didn't even try to catch myself. More tears. My jaw hung open slack, and drool poured from the side of it, beginning to spill to the floor, and he kneeled beside me. I kept my gaze away from him, only looking straight ahead as I lied on my side. Grabbing my chin, he directed my face toward his, and cusped my chin in his hands a bit tighter. The thread of drool unwound as he pulled my head up, and a small puddle had accumulated on the floor. He sneered in disgust, with hateful eyes.
"Why are you so pathetic?" he asked softly, before leaning in, and his hot lips crashed with the coolness of mine. I didn't kiss back, I just let him have his way with me, I didn't want to resist, and I didn't want to seem like I needed it. I just wanted him to stop and be the boy I used to know. I would give anything to be with that sweet, caring boy again, I would even stay with this jackass forever. I still see Luke, but not as much as I used to, he'd been gradually disappearing over the years, and I was seeing more and more of this guy. Put me through whatever trials you have to, just promise I'll get to see Luke when you're done with me. He'd love me even if I was a bloody carcass... He pulled away now, a thin strand of saliva clung between our lips, before snapping, and falling lightly on my chin. The warm wetness I felt there as his lips left mine made me feel empty for some reason. Like I'd become nothing to him but hot regret, like this is all I'm worth to him anymore. He still was pulling himself away, his eyes still closed, but he was so far away from me. I brought my head a little higher, and mouthed out another kiss, one that was returned with nothing but air, cold, desolation. His closed eyes signaled he didn't even know I'd tried, like I didn't even exist for our love, for this passion.
"I don't like this..." I whispered shakily as tears welled in my eyes, and spilled over once more, so hot, so new. Fresher than the new wounds he'd left in my arm, and he opened his eyes solely, looking dismally down on me, before he got angry again.
"What?" he whispered softly. "Don't like this house? Our situation? Me? DO YOU NOT LIKE ME?!" he lashed out, hot saliva exploding from his mouth, landing on my forehead, he jerked himself to a standing position, and I sat up.
"TOO MUCH REALITY FOR YOU?!" he screamed, walking over the the pile of dirty dishes and slamming them all to the ground, shattering everywhere, the entire floor covered in glassy shards. Half-broken cups jutted in the pile of glassy dust here and there like caves. "You love that Taylor guy you work with, RIGHT?!" he screamed, pointing an accusing finger at me, his eyes burned hot and wild. "YOU WANT HIM, DON'T YOU?! YOU HATE IT HERE!" I choked on my own breath and saliva, shocked and depressed by his accusations. I was honestly beginning to get scared he wouldn't love me anymore. I began screaming through my choppy breaths, and tears that still rivuleted relentlessly.
"NO! Luke, Luke, baby, listen to me!" I screamed after him as he left the room, and I hastily jerked to my feet. I awkwardly climbed and stumbled over the table to avoid the glass on the floor, and followed him into the darkness of the living room.
"Luke!" I screamed, and though he was only a few feet in front of me, he kept his back turned. "LUKE, PLEASE STOP, I SWEAR TO GOD I DIDN'T MEAN IT THAT WAY!" still no response as we walked, so I gently grabbed his wrist, and stopped, he stopped with me. "PLEASE, LET'S JUST FORGET IT, LUKE, PLEASE STOP!" I coked. "I LOVE YOU!" he whipped around with an evil ominousness in his eyes, and smacked me again, I stumbled a bit, but tried to look back at him. As I did so, another smack on the opposite cheek, then the other. After a moment, the rapid firing stings to my face stopped, so I looked through the blond shroud of my hair to meet his gaze. It was a look of pure hatred, something I'd never seen from him before, my mouth fell open a bit, and suddenly I couldn't breathe. I didn't realize what was happening until I felt his inhumanly hot fingers strangling my throat. I coughed weakly, and my eyes went wide, I couldn't even fathom what was happening. My true love was killing me. I put my feebly weak, white hands gently on his strong, tan forearm. My fingers clung uselessly as I spoke. Or, more-so TRIED to speak.
"Luke...pl...heeeaasee....no..." I begged him, I coughed a little more, and some spittle landed on his arm. The look of fury grew fiery in his eyes, and he lifted me even farther into the air. My breath was escaping me rapidly now, my eyes began to recoil into the back of my sockets. My hands trembled a little more against his iron grip before falling weakly to my sides, saliva poured slowly out the side of my mouth. My perceptions were leaving me, and just as things were turning black, I fell to the floor. Gasping for breath, I looked up at him hurt. I wanted to ask him why, to tell him it's okay, that I'll never leave, that I'll always love him. My mouth opened, but no words came out, all I could manage were hacked, dry quirky breaths. That same look of disgust crossed his face, and he raised his hand to smack me again. I flinched in fear and turned my head away. After a minute, nothing happened, and I looked back up and saw he hadn't moved, his hand, his arm, even his expression froze.
"It's like playing Tennis when the score is 40-Love and you don't have a racquet, what's the point?" he said as he turned his back on me and began to walk toward the bedroom, I sat there in awe and confusion. What was that supposed to mean? The light flipped on down the hall now, and I knew he was down there, but as to what he was doing, it was a mystery. Then I heard his voice as I saw a suitcase being thrown across the room.
"You want that Taylor guy?! You want to leave?! GO, I WON'T STOP YOU, I'M PACKING YOUR S**T RIGHT NOW, B***H!" the words echoed through the hallway, and stung every irony fiber in my heart, it felt like he squeezed it so hard all of my emotions spilled out of my eyes. I stumbled to my feet, fell, right on my face, and jerked upright again.
"LUKE! PLEASE! DON'T DO THIS ANYMORE, DON"T MAKE ME LEAVE!" I shrieked at him as he stuffed my clothes into the suitcase hastily, not folding or even looking at what he was packing, or how much. Simply tossed it in haphazardly and went on swearing as I cried and begged him to stop. I ran over to him and hugged his warm, nude torso as tight as I could.
"Luke, it's Angela, please, PLEASE st-stop?" I begged in a mumbly, whiny voice even I didn't recognize. "Remember that note you wrote to me once in high school? How you wrote it all neat and it said "Forever together, just you and me."? The little heart you drew too? It was so beautiful, I never got rid of it, I can show you if you want, you meant it, right? Forever? Please, please forever, just you and me..." I blubbered pathetically, and started screaming and crying as he shoved me off of him.
"Yeah, I guess forever went by pretty quick, didn't it?" he shot back coldly at me, which on made me cry harder. I actually got so upset I ran up to him, right up to his face and punched him as hard as I could(which did nearly nothing at all, except move his head slightly).
"Don't even say that, you b*****d! WE WILL BE TOGETHER, FOREVER! PLEASE, PLEASE, LUKE, DON'T LEAVE ME!..." I trailed off, and after my fit, added weakly, but audibly enough. "Please, Luke...you...you promised..." instead of exploding in anger like I thought he would have, he just stood there. His head didn't even turn to meet my stare, he looked so upset. Like the day his mother died, he looked just as empty as then, nothing on the surface but a shallow, lifeless mask. I was upset, and still in pain, but I didn't like to see him this way. I stood staring just as blankly at him for a moment, then my meager voice sliced the still air.
"Luke..." I spoke softly, as I walked back over to him, and hugged him, burying my face in his muscly chest. "Let's just forget it," I spoke in a muffled voice. Pulling back to look at him, he kept staring off into space it seemed, so I tried harder to get his attention, resorting to sex.
"Come on, Luke...I can just slip into that lingerie you like so much, you know which one, it's been a long time since I wore it, I know it's your favorite. We'll just...get lost in the passion, it'll be like high school all over again."  a weary smile grew wide on his face, and he chuckled weakly. I could feel the dread and despair tugging at my insides.
"Angela," he spoke weakly. "You've gained so much weight, I doubt you'd fit into it anymore, anyway. Besides, sex doesn't mat-"
"If you're saying that because I gross you out now or something...I could...I don't know, I'm sorry, Luke. Just try not to touch certain spots and you can pretend I'm still skinny, I know it's been awhile, but we can still have sex if you want." I desperately offered him, yeah, it's true, I was a bit curvier than I used to be, but it wasn't horribly obscene. He could still enjoy himself, and I'd enjoy it too, he's good at making love. I just wanted things to calm down, for us to feel happy and young again, that freedom we had. Oh, that freedom, how desperately I wanted that back, and for that, I was willing to do anything. He hadn't responded, just stood there with that fake, dead look on his face. Before I panicked, I grabbed his hand, and put it near the button of my jeans.
"Luke, I'll even let you undo them, let's just..." I trailed off, searching for the words I so desperately wanted to know, the words that would make things right again, but he just shoved me away lightly.
"Go wait in the hall, I need to get something ready first..." he whispered sadly, and I wanted to object, but didn't. Maybe he just needed to get hard? This wouldn't be the first time. So I walked out into the hall and quietly shut the door, and as I thought about going back in, there was a knock at the door.
"Who could that be?" I thought worrying to myself. After all, we're virtually isolated here, and it's so late. Who would come at this hour of the night? To a place like this? On a night like this one? Opening the door, I saw it was Taylor, at first, he smiled boyishly at me, but then grew concerned. I figured he probably saw the slap marks on my face, but I just smiled and asked as happily as I could manage.
"Taylor? What are you doing all the way our here?" he stared a moment or two longer, and then a look of apprehension crossed his face.
"Oh, right, here, you forgot this at work." he said, holding out my purse. The velvety, creamy pink looked good enough to eat.
"Oh! Thank you so much, I didn't even realize that I'd left it th-" suddenly, there was a sound of gunfire from the bedroom, and everything fell silent. I just remembered that Luke kept a pistol in the dresser for good measure. And then it all came crashing down, I didn't want to believe it, but, yes, I was sure he had.
"What the hell was that?" Taylor sputtered out in confusion, and I ran full-burst to the bedroom, and swung the door open. I hadn't even realized I was doing it, but I was shrieking Luke's name at the top of my lungs. I didn't even see him at first, all I saw was the blank, white carpet, blank, blank. Red. It was pooling beneath his head as he was lying on his side on the floor. I shrieked and couldn't even hear myself, I didn't know what to do. I didn't know what to think. Luke, my baby, my lover, my world, he was gone. But then it dawned on me, maybe this is what he meant by 'forever'. It made a lot of sense, and it seemed to calm me down, even though I knew I was still screaming. Well, I couldn't exactly hear it, but the hoarse strain in my throat said enough. The blurry haze of tears in my eyes made him look so distant, almost as if I was in some kind of dream state. And I wish that I could have been, it would have been so much easier, and then I could wake up beside him and cry about my bad dream. Luke would be there, and I would be okay, sure, he might slap me for waking him up, but he would still be here. With me... But as the image of his stained my mind harshly with dark blotches of crimson, the tears poured faster. Maybe now it was my turn, so through all of my shrieks and tears, I crawled to Luke's corpse, and began prying the pistol from his fingers, which were growing cold. Then all I remember is being pulled away, Taylor stopped me from doing anything. I screamed and begged him to let me go, I tried everything I could, but couldn't break free. And in the stillness of the night air, I continued to cry out Luke's name, and that's when I stopped caring about everything.