"she's 18 now and they're drunk

in the split second it takes for her words to enter his ears they're ruined

like a glass heirloom being dropped between the hands of generations

she meant them to open his arms, but they curl his fists and suddenly his hands are on her

and her head hits the wall and all of the goddamn words in the world couldn't save them in this moment

she touches the bruise the next day

boys will be boys."

-

"I don't want to be treated like this anymore!"

She's shouting and yelling at the top of her lungs to the pale boy in front of her. She flinches as she yells, the cut on her lip opening the slightest bit more and the bruise on her jaw aching.

His light green eyes narrow and his hands curl into fists as she chokes down the last of her words. She could never fear Michael as he was her second love and she only spoke to him like this when she could smell the liquor, even on herself. No burning in her throat could compare to the burn she felt when his hands gripped her arms and wrists and when his lips bit at hers and fingers curled around her neck.

He charged towards her and she stood tall, her shoulders and head taking the impact against the wall. She feels dizzy and numb, taking the words being thrown at her and letting them settle inside the growing fire inside her.

No amount of words she could shout back could fix what drunken monster she created. No amount of words she could whisper into his ear could get him to settle down. No amount of 'I love you's' or 'I'm sorry' could save her in this moment.

It's all dark to Iris. It wasn't just her heavy eyelids that took away her vision, but now her view on all things in life. Love is dark, she is dark, living is dark. Her bruises are dark and so are her eyes. Her whole world is becoming an eclipse and she has yet to figure out that something is wrong. That this isn't normal.

Iris sleeps for ten hours on her couch in her own home. Her head had a vast amount of pressure, some from the hangover and some from the wall. Her thin body dragged itself to the kitchen where she drinks a glass of water and then moves to the bathroom.

She reties her hair up and splashes her face with water, her makeup dripping off of her burning lips and reddened face. She glanced up to her reflection and shook her head before stripping off her clothes. She was left in just her shorts and a bra and that's when she notices a cloud shaped bruise on her back.

It's purple and black and something that she couldn't cover up, so she left it to herself to come up with an excuse later on that she would have to tell Luke. He was always asking, always worried. She imagined his furrowed eyebrows and questioning baby blue eyes.

Luke didn't expect that it was her new boyfriend doing it to her, but rather herself. Not purposely self inflicted, but just because Iris seemed to be very clumsy at times.

She thought of multiple lies she could tell her friend. She slipped, she ran into a table, or she doesn't know because she was so intoxicated that night. That one worked the best for her these days, considering she had developed a small drinking problem in the past year. She only ever enjoyed being sober around Luke. He could bring out her true self, whatever that meant anymore.

Luke made her feel so bright and alive again, but so did all of her other lovers. Her lovers only when they were intimate, of course.

Everyday she thinks back to the time Luke had kissed her that summer and how that day she wanted nothing more than to kiss him again. The feeling soon faded and she moved on from the needy feeling, but it came back every once in a while.

Now she stands in her shower, steam clouding around her and thinks about Luke's defined cupid's bow. How it would feel to have his teeth tugging at her bottom lip. The way his nose would feel nudging against hers.

It all comes down to the first story, when he helped her up on the playground in his horrible striped shirt.

"Boys will be boys."

Iris was looking to be saved.