when love hits

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Romance  |  House: Booksie Classic
When love hits, is meant to explore an untold side of domestic abuse - the women who need the hits as reassurance he still loves her.

Submitted: July 01, 2016

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Submitted: July 01, 2016

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The moon feels a lot warmer. It’s peaking through, as if acting as guide to all for a damsel in distress. Tonight doesn’t feel like any other night. I can’t place my finger on it. The air seems too thick. As I sit waiting for the lamb chops to turn a sizzled brown, I can’t help but stare at the beauty that holds my heart. I still feel like a kid around him. The butterflies from our first kiss have been roaming and floating free. They beat their wings with the force of a whales tale whenever he smiles, says anything infact. I don’t think this honeymoon phase will ever fade; in all honesty, this love sheds itself and becomes reborn every morning. 
“Can you hurry up please!” He shouts from in front of the laptop screen. If I respond it will be with the sarcasm I know annoys him. I disregard his comment and continue chopping onions. I throw them on the frying pan with the lamb chops. The smell of cooking fills the kitchen, my favourite room in the apartment. The nann bread, coconut rice and salad have been sitting on the dinning room table. I start preparing the sauce. I feel a sudden breath on my neck. I know to well who’s behind me. As I turn to face him, he holds my gaze. 

“Boy, if you’ve come to disturb me, you’re only going to make me burn dinner. You wouldn’t want that now would you?” I don’t turn round as i speak. I can sense his cheeky grin now plastered on his face. “I can always eat you.” He responds. Right on cue, the butterflies. I’m sure he does this on purpose. He must get off on me losing all concentration around him. I take his hand in mine, lead him to his seat at the table, kiss his cheek and say “Stay seated and we can discuss dessert.” As I turn to go back to the stove, his heavy hand slaps my bum and is accompanied with a wink. 

I can’t help but laugh, he enjoys curry but can’t take the spice. He’s drowning every bite with coke like the fizz is helping. I get up to pour him a glass of water. He can hear me chuckle away to myself. He has this longing look to be looked after yet his masculinity won’t allow him to ever say so. I sometimes wanna force the tears out of him. As I begin to clear the table, the unsettling feeling creeps back into the room, it’s as if it’s sitting amongst us at the table. I’m staring at the floor boards by now, moving slowly and distracted, by now David has left me to clean up. When I heard the phone ring I wasn’t paying enough attention to know it was mine, I was counting down as I finshed drying each dish. I didn’t hear him call my name or walk back into the kitchen. My chest began to feel heavier and heavier and heavier. The feeling I couldn’t shake had now made me anxious unknowingly. Then it hit me. 

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

I swear, she’s the most beautiful woman in the world. Every time I close my eyes I can’t help but picture her smile, how her lips just make you want to kiss her. Her laugh is the only music I refuse to go without. Words couldn’t even begin to describe how sexy, great, truly magnificent my lady is. The way she looks at me, trusts me, loves me. Monaèe provides me with the drive to be a better man, I just want to protect and keep her happy. I remember the day we meet like it was yesterday. 

I had decided to take a walk in the park to clear my head. As I followed the pathway round, there sat a familiar face. The girl with glasses. From what I know of her she likes to keep to herself, the opportunity to speak to her has never presented itself. Until now. She sat with her legs crossed on the grass. Her glasses resting on the bridge of her nose, the sun beaming on her skin making her appear like the smooth texture of honey. She looked like a golden empress completely indulged in her book. She looked so at peace, so calm with herself.
“Excuse me miss,” my voice filling the space around us with confidence. No reply. She’s either being quite rude and ignoring me, or I wasn’t loud enough. I clear my throat and manage a modest hello. She looks up, her brown eyes full of such honesty, visible from above the frame of her glasses. She throws a quick smile. The smile was a mix of awkward and polite. “Can I help you?” She asks. I didn’t plan this far into the conversation, by default I ask about her book. Her face lights up instantly, as I sit beside her, she informs me how she obtained the book. Whilst on her way home, a stranger gave it to her, she’s been hooked on every word since. As her story came to an end, she became more fidgety. I couldn’t help but look at her in awe while she avoided eye contact. Her voice broke the silence. “What do you want?” Her question startled me. Looking at her I knew I wanted to make her mine. Instead, I managed a basic “To get to know you”. Her eyes rolled in irritation.

“Sorry but no thanks. I’m not really a peoples person. I’m happy with the people in my life, so that won’t be happening.” She gave one last polite smile and started reading her book again. I wasn’t expecting that. I don’t really get rejected, or do I fail in getting what I want. I stood up, watched her take no interest in the fact that I was still standing there. I turned to walk away but stopped myself. I let out a small laugh. Her head didn’t move at all. I slipped the book out from her fingers. “What are you doing?” She demanded. 

“See I’m not used to not getting what I want so I’m kidnapping your book. To get it back you must pay the ransom which is spending the rest of the day with me.” I informed her as I looked straight in her eyes, trying my best not to flash a smirk. She crossed her arms and with so much attitude spat out “Fine!” In my head I heard a little voice say, yeah you might just be a keeper. 
 

In front of me was my beautiful best friend, she lay sitting upright on the floor with the blood spilling from her lips. She stared remorseful and fighting the tears back. I could see the skin on her cheek was torn by the friction and force of a fist. I didn’t mean to hit her. I just went into the kitchen to ask her why her waste of space ex-boyfriend was calling her phone. I didn’t intend to get angry and lash out. She was hunched on the kitchen floor as still as a whisper. Her palm placed gently on her jaw. She looked up at me with shock. 

I unclenched my fist, reached my hand out to her face – she flinched. I heard my heart break. I promised to never treat her like her ex and here we were. The air was heavy and suffocating. It took a while for her to get up. She stood up without saying a word. As she walked, I was convinced this was going to slowly become the end. Monaèe rummaged through the freezer draw and brought out peas. I followed her as she walked into the front room. She sat as if she was waiting for me. I wanted to run out the flat, run and run till my body ached. I wanted to run so fast that I could undo what I did. I sat on the other end of the sofa. The ice was melting off the peas packaging. She scooted closer to me, took my hand in hers as she did earlier and placed the packet on my hand. She still hasn’t said anything; I didn’t know what to say. I began many attempts to say I’m sorry. It came out as a mutter. She just shook her head. 

“You don’t need to apologise. You didn’t do anything wrong. If you say you don’t love me no more then, well, then I understand. You’re hurt.” Her eyes remained fixed on my hand. A tear rolled down her face, I wanted to kiss her pain away. I didn’t feel like a man no more. What man ever dears lay a finger on his woman? 

“I’m sor…” I began to apologise, she interrupted me with a Shh. “I said you don’t need to apologise baby. There’s no piece of me that hates or resents you. I love you unconditionally. I’ve told you before. If it’s with you, for you, by you I am down for it. Without a doubt, without question.” She paused. “You’re nothing like him you know, not even close. I don’t want you to be sitting there comparing yourself to him, understand? I get that in that moment you..” I placed my lips softly on hers. They didn’t feel like the lips I knew. I could feel her lip throbbing. I could taste the blood still fresh. I rested my forehead on hers; I raised both hands and put them on the back of her neck. She winced after kissing my forearm. 

“I shouldn’t of done that, I don’t know why, I just. I’m sorry Monaèe. You didn’t deserve that” I spoke just above a whisper. 

She sighed, “Do you love me still?” She asked. 

“Of course baby, I’m so sor..” She interrupted my apology once again. “Shh, it doesn’t matter. All that matters is you love me, and there’s nothing that can stop me from loving you. So let’s forget it and move on, okay? Can you do that for me baby?” Her tone was reinforcing. I don’t deserve her love. It feels tainted. How could she possibly still want to love me? How could she still want to come home to me every night? I wanted to tell her she’d be better off without me, but I need her beside me. I layed my head on her lap. She began stroking my ear lobe. My blinking became slower and before I knew it, I had tears streaming down to her lap. 

I don’t remember how long we stayed cramped on the sofa. I don’t even remember falling asleep. What I do remember is Monaèe getting up and walking to the bedroom. With each step, she undressed and dropped the clothes on the floor. Still with drops of blood. The moon light was peaking in, giving her an effortless glow. Her own little bubble. She’s never looked as good as she did in that moment. 

“What are you doing?” I enquired. 

She leaned her head on the door way, stretched her arm out. From her lips uttered “You’ll feel better once you’re inside of me. Come” 


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