There were so many things he loved about her, those bright, vivid eyes, that quick-to-smile mouth, the way her tongue would flicker across her lips when she wanted him, her sweet demeanor... In some ways, it made things even worse when she pissed him off, when they entered those arguments, the ones where he needed to slap her to get her to stop shouting at him, those times when he had to inflict more than a slight amount of pain on his little angel to end the conversation.
It killed him sometimes, seeing one of her eyes yellow-purple from his fist, her upper lip puffy and swollen, the way she cringed when he tried to touch her again. It was pitiful, in some ways, how all she could do was cry, plead for him to get away from her, whimper when he slipped an arm around her in an attempt to comfort her, show her that he’d never do it again, a resolution he always had to break, no matter how hard he tried.
“I’m sorry, Angie, what else can I say?” She’d fixed her gaze to her feet, as she nibbled at her lower lip, arms wrapped around her legs, tucking into herself. “I... I know you don’t want to talk right now, and I know you don’t want to forgive me... Shit... Just... Angie, will you fucking look at me!”
She turned her head to look at him, eyes wide in fear as he stood, looking down at her in revulsion; it was surprising how hideous she could look, mascara running black lines down her face, her split lip and black eye nauseating to view, while the way her dark hair had been tangled... She was always a mess after their fights, he knew he was the reason behind how she looked, but, Jesus fucking Christ, it was hard to sympathize with her when she looked like that.
“Angie, you stay here. Just... fuck... I need air.” She just sat there, still breathing in and out with difficulty, tears still rolling black down her face. Pathetic... little bitch had it coming.
That was always her problem, the fact that she was so weak, fragile, and yet, she’d still argue with his demands, as if unaware of the fact that he could, and would, break her if she fucked around with him too much.
Harsh, echoing footsteps rang in her ears as he stepped out of the room, into the hallway, slamming the door to his home behind him. She closed her eyes, choking on her breath, the cold air drying the tears on her face. God... He’s going to kill me... Please... Oh, God...
Still trembling, she stood, listening for anything to suggest that he would storm back into the house. Satisfied that there were no sounds other than her own pants for air, she stepped toward the phone on the table she’d had her head slammed into a few weeks before. Her fingers shook as she pressed the numbers for the one person she could trust, the one person who’d never hurt her, who’d promised that he’d never harm her in any way... and had been consistent with his words.
“Mark? It-It’s Angelina. Please... please come. I-I need you.”
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