Taylor pushed the ice to the new bruise that expanded across her chest and down her stomach. She let one tear escape as Dom’s truck drove away. The cuts marking her thighs looked infected; she cursed and sat the ice there. Her mind filled with the scene she just participated in.
“What’s this? Dom exploded. His face was turning read and his eyes bloodshot, his drunken breath awoke my senses.
I looked down at the cuts that I had made two days ago, they were already starting to heal over. I didn’t say anything.
His grip tightened on the marks, I whimpered in pain. “Don’t you love me?” he asked standing up, his fist positioned threateningly over his head.
“Yes!” I screamed, burrowing my head into the pillow next to me cowering away from the angry fist.
The hand came down hard on my chest. “Fucking look at me!” I turned my head and stared into his crazy eyes.
My eyes began to water as the pain on my chest reached me.
He pulled me up from my position on the floor. “If you loved me you wouldn’t be fucking cutting yourself! Taylor I’m the only one who cares about you! Do you think anyone else could love a whore? Bitch, you’re mine!” Dom slapped and dug his fingers into the cuts. I tried not to react.
“Tell me you love me!” he said, pushing me at the banister causing the wood to hit my stomach, knocking the wind out of me.
“I love you!” I said with as much voice as I could muster.
He grabbed me by my hair, pulling most of the dark strands out. “That’s not the way you say it!” Dom said, slamming my head into the wall.
I felt my nose break. I howled out in pain.
“I’m done with you slut!” he said, throwing me down and walked out the door.
Taylor pulled off the ice pack and grabbed the knife as the fury and sadness finally gripped her. She was done with the humility and pain. Done with being disrespected. She pressed the knife into her wrist.