TW: blood, vomit, abuse, & sexual abuse (from the past)

Lying bruised and broken on my kitchen floor seemed to be a great pastime of mine.

I often found myself lying in a puddle of my blood, and then later scrubbing the dried blood from the tiles with vigour.

Today was not the first time, and I doubted it would be the last.

Today, he forced me against my will.

Darius had come home from 'work' frustrated that his father would not promote him yet. I was plating dinner when the front door slammed open and his angry footsteps echoed through the house. I remember being scared, frozen to the spot as he marched into the kitchen.

He shouted at me, slapped me around, and cursed about how it was my fault. I had postponed the wedding and, therefore, postponed his promotion in the town council. Apparently, an unmarried man had no morals, and could not run a family business.

After being beaten until I bled, he forced me over the kitchen island and took me from behind. I had no tears left to cry as he used me, no tears for the man who had slowly become the monster under my bed. He had taken everything from me. But this time, for the first time, he didn't pull out right away.

I felt sickened as he cursed me with his finish, before he swore and pulled out, spitting the rest over my ass.

"Look what you made me do, you slut! You better get all of that out of your fucking cunt now!" He spat, smacking my ass.

I winced, feeling sticky and used as he zipped himself up.

"No words? You want to trap me with your stupid spawn? Is that it?"

"N-no!" I shook my head, spinning to look at him. "I did nothing!"

He snarled, and before I could react, grabbed the cooling pan from the hob and threw it against my head. The frying pan ricocheted in my ears, and I smacked the floor with a wail. I tasted blood; I saw stars, and I groaned with pain. My tongue felt heavy.

"Stupid woman." He spat, sitting at the kitchen island.

He ate the meal I spent an hour making without another thought.

I passed out.

Away from him.

Away from the monsters.

I woke in the same place much later and pushed myself up onto my knees with shaky breaths. Blood caked my hands, down my chest, and all over the kitchen cupboard. My head span and I couldn't hold back the vomit as it piled up my sternum. I just made it to the sink before emptying my stomach contents down the drain.

Sighing softly, I stared down at my bloodied hands. I would have to tidy the kitchen first, and then myself last.

I started with the cupboards, scrubbing them until they shone before moving onto the floor. Thankfully, the blood from the side of my head and nose had ceased to drip. It didn't take me too long to clean. It was the breaks in between I had to take to stop the swaying of the world that were the hardest.

Once the traces of the abuse were gone, I started on the dishes. Darius had eaten all of his food, and then what little I had left for myself. No doubt out of spite. My stomach churned with emptiness, unhappy with how I had been starved all day, and then purged what little acid I had down the drain.

Kind of like my happiness.

Squeezed to death and then thrown away.

Sighing once it was all done, I shifted into the bathroom and turned on the light. Under the florescent glow of the bulb, I looked like something out of a nightmare. I opened the cupboard and downed some painkillers with a gulp of water from the tap.

Scrubbing blood from my hands was easy, thankfully, but I had to be careful with the fresh cut on the side of my head.

Looks like I'm going to have to take scissors to it. It was way too hairy for a cut that size.

I showered once I trimmed the most of it from my scalp, remembering the stickiness between my thighs. Of course, it was all my fault. Not his lack of morals, restraint and predatory gaze. Oh, and general sanity.

Getting into a nightdress, I left the bedroom and creeped my way downstairs.

At least he did not force me into the dark room this time.

Entering the kitchen, I paused in the entryway. The room was the same as I had left it; sparkling clean, but something had compromised the island. A large crystal vase full of crystal clear water held a single blood red rose. It looked lonesome in the jar all by itself, but I knew right away that it was Darius' doing.

'What's the point in wasting my money getting a bunch when a single damn flower has the same meaning as ten?'

Romantic, wasn't he?

He started getting me roses when we first started dating. What used to be a date-occurrence turned into only something I received when he felt it was necessary. For example, slamming a frying pan across my face.

I think this was vase number three as well, the previous ones being smashed into my head or back. My hand trailed the vase, feeling the bumps and grooves of the dotted pattern along the rim before I trailed it upward. My fingers stroked the soft petals, the deep red a sharp contrast to the paleness of my skin. I wrapped my fingers beneath the head and pulled it close to get a smell.

The rose was rich, tickling my nose with its intensity. It was so full of life, fully blossomed, and beautiful. It made me feel weirdly jealous of how a rose can be so delicate and peaceful.

Pulling my hand away, I felt a sharp tug along my thumb that had me jerk my hand away. A small bead of blood puddled on my skin and I stared at the familiar colour before bringing it to my mouth to cleanse. I had knocked a petal loose, and it lay fluttered on the countertop, right beside a small bead of blood.

It was eerily similar, the dark red of each, and I frowned, wiping it away quickly and discarding the lone petal into the bin.

I suppose roses were not always peaceful and defenceless. Despite their delicate ability to fall to pieces at the slightest touch, they still had thorns.

I rolled my shoulders, releasing the shudder that came with the memory of single-handedly pulling shards from my scalp. Moving toward the island, I eyed the red rose as I made myself a drink of water.

"You found my flower?"

My body froze, glass half-way to my lips as his voice echoed across the room. Dread filled me, and my internal walls crept higher.

I cleared my throat, muttering a yes.

"Do you like it?"

"Yes," I breathed.

"A thanks would be nice," He drawled, footsteps growing closer.

My back was tense as his hand pushed the damp tendrils of hair from my neck, exposing my face to his. I eyed him nervously, knowing that the stench of alcohol was not coming from the rose.

"Thank you for the flower."

He smirked, running his thumb down my jaw before squeezing my chin in his grip. "Next time, thank me straight away."

"Okay," I exhaled. "Thank you. I-I really mean it."

His lips widened into a genuine grin, but the haze in his eyes told me he wasn't all there. I quickly glanced at the clock over his shoulder, finding mild alarm in how long I was unconscious for.

"You should be in bed." He murmured, still holding onto me.

"Y-yes, I was on my way back up." I cleared my throat, looking at his chin rather than his eyes. "I was just thirsty."

His thumb drifted, pressing into the joint of my jaw. His eyes held mine, dropping into a firm scowl. I felt my breath hitch and his eyes followed the rise of my chest.

"Good. Go to bed," He demanded.

He released me harshly, and the breath I was holding rushed out of me like a wave. I scurried from the room, quickly hurrying my way into the bedroom. I shut the door softly, pressing my back into the wood as all my emotions rushed out of me at once.

I thought he was going to get me again.

But he didn't. For now, I was safe, with just my headache to keep me company.

***

I blinked, still frozen in the bedroom, as those daunting red petals stared so peacefully back at me. So delicately placed amongst the whiteness of the bedsheets, it would be a shame to remove it.

The door slamming open had my head spin to the side, and on instinct I took a few alarmed steps backward. To my utter relief, it was Asra. His eyes were narrowed and sharp, his shoulders hunched as he peered around the room. He left the door open, but his entire body was alert.

"What happened? What is it?" He blurted, locking his eyes on me.

I swallowed, pointing to the bed, my hand shaking violently.

My mate creeped further into the room, peering down at the rose on the pillows. "It's a flower."

"It's a red rose," I whispered.

"I didn't put it there."

"I know you didn't," Whimpering, my eyes burned with the need to cry. "I was in the shower and I came out and it was there and-

"Maybe the maids placed it?" He suggested, cutting me off.

I shook my head, my hands shaking as I placed them on his bicep. "N-no. It wasn't the maids! Asra, I... I..."

He turned to me, taking my shaking limbs into his large palms. "Tulip, calm down."

Blue met blue, and his eyes creased with concern. He gestured for me to copy his breaths, puffing his chest high before letting it settle.

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I eyed the stupid red rose. "It wasn't the maids. The window is open."

"Someone climbed through the window?" He wondered.

"Yes. Not someone, Darius." His name drifted from my lips.

Asra snarled. "I doubt Darius broke into my home, Tulip. We live on the top floor."

"I know it sounds silly, I know. B-but he would always leave me single red roses after hurting me." I explained, clutching into his fingers. "He never bought me more than one, and they were always that colour. He had a bush of them."

His jaw tightened as he scanned my face. I held his gaze, urging him to believe me. I know it sounded baffling; a human climbing a few dozen floors to put a flower on a pillow, but this wasn't a coincidence.

Asra leaned away, turning to the bed with a scowl. He released me, stepping closer to the frame as he inhaled sharply. I watched him quietly as he sniffed the area, despite how silly and dog-like he looked. He was still scowling when he turned to me and shook his head.

No scent.

He continued on, picking the rose from the bed before lifting it to his face. I chewed my lip as he inhaled, waiting for him to say something. Anything. His hand fell away from his face without a word, but then he went... Strange. His eyes seemed to widen before he furiously blinked and took a step away from the bed.

"Asra?" I wondered as he stumbled.

His back hit the wall, and I scurried over to him, wondering what was going on. His blue eyes were dark and dilated, furious as his back crumbled into the plaster. I cried out, alarmed, as he slipped down to the floor, his head thudding onto the carpet. I fell with him, my hands pulling at his shoulders and prying at his face.

"Asra!" I screamed.

Despite the obviousness of him falling unconscious, not once did he show an ounce of fear. My mate's face was full of scorn as he hit the floor, and a furious snarl fell from his lips just before his eyes rolled back and he stilled.

I was panting; the air whooshing in and out of my lungs at a furious pace. I could feel my body warm, a nervous sweat pooling on my neck and palms as I tried to push my mate awake. My hands fretted, palming his chest and shoulders with horror.

Why did he collapse? What happened?

I was screaming his name, smacking his cheek to wake him up, to no avail, as tears pooled in my eyes. The creases had fallen away from his face, appearing as though he was merely in dreamland, but I knew better. He wasn't sleeping. He wasn't in control of his actions.

I eyed the rose on the ground, finding it crushed on the carpet. Something was on it, and I did not want to find out. Calling for help was my only option, and I just hoped that somebody could figure out what was on the flower before something else happens.

********

Bit odd when she starts to find things out other things start to happen isn't it?

👀