He Loves Me, He Loves Me Not. He Loves Me Not.

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Young Adult  |  House: Booksie Classic
a girl in a park is plucking daisy petals and cryng. why? youll have to read on.

Submitted: March 29, 2009

A A A | A A A

Submitted: March 29, 2009



'He loves me,' I plucked a petal. 'He loves me not.' Huh? The only thing left was the stem. I look down at the daisy in shock. That cant be right. But as i look down at the pile of plucked daisy’s i cant deny the truth. Five flowers all with the same answer, that cant be coincidence.
“No.” I yell out loud “I don’t believe you. He does love me, he tells me all the time.” I stomp the petals and stems beneath my feet then collapse to the ground crying.
“He has to love me or then what is everything for?” I raise my hand up to my face and start crying harder. “He has to love me.” This time it comes out as a whisper.
“Miss are you ok?” I look up to see an old man looking down at me. His eyes are creased up with worry and i realise how strange i must look curled up on the ground with a puffy face, crying and talking to myself.
“I’m fine.” I manage to murmer. I start to get up pushing my tangled hair off my face.
“here let me help you up.” He reaches a hand towards me and i cringe back without thinking falling back onto the grass.
“No thank you im fine.” I let out in a strangled whisper.
He looks at me in shock pulling his hand back. I quickly get up and start to run home not looking at the old man as i push past him. The scenery blurs past me as i try to run away from the feelings of fear that the old man has sparked in me.
When i reach my street i slow down and try to compose myself, I don’t want him to see me like this. I smooth my hair down and wipe my eyes and feel presentable enough to go to my front door.
As soon as i step through the front door the yelling starts. “Where have you been? Its past dinner time. What are you wearing? You stepped out of the house looking like that?”
I cringe and try to ignore it making my way to the kitchen to cook dinner. “How many guys hit on you when you were out? They must have with you looking like that, is that why your dressed like that, to slut around town?” i look down at my jeans and singlet and the tears start to fall.
“Of course not, i would never...... i love you.....” I start to mummer but my words are cut off by the sharp low to my cheek. Even though i know it will make him angrier I raise my hands to protect myself. This causes him to become enraged and the blows start raining down hard and fast, all over my body in places where no one will notice. Always in places where no one will notice, except for the first blow.
I fall to the floor and start crawling towards the back door, crying, trying to escape. In between his panting he mutters the same thing over and over again. “Dirty whore, you’ll never learn.” The same thing he always says. It ends with him ripping off my clothes and raping me. I lay there trying not to make him angrier looking up at his angry face that just seems to look right through me.
When hes done i pull on my clothes and crawl out to the backyard sitting amongst the daisys. Pulling them out of the ground and plucking the petals one by one. Eventually he comes out and sits next to me wrapping his arms around me and pulling me into the warm circle of his arms. The tears are long dried on my face by now.
“I’m sorry Annabel. You know i love you...... it wont ever happen again i promise.... i mean it this time...... ill always love you...... your ok....... ill change i promise....” his empty words barely register in my numb brain i just sit there absently plucking the daisy petals, staring at my hands and thinking about what my gravestone will read.
Annabel Maria; girlfriend of Aiden Smith. Well loved girlfriend who just happened to be very accident prone. The tears start to fall again but i hardly notice them, i just keep plucking daisy petals making the pile in front of me bigger.
When Aiden leaves i pluck the last daisy in the patch of garden im sitting in. Pretty soon im up to the last few petals, - 'He loves me,' I plucked a petal. 'He loves me not.' Huh? The only thing left was the stem.

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