Song chosen : Same Old Love

She sat in the dark, alone.

Alone, because he'd left again, alone because they'd fought again, alone because he'd gone out to sleep with another woman, again and --

She was alone.

She was alone, and tired and sick of everything. She was sick of their "love." She hated him, hated the girls he slept with, and yes she knew about them, hated the way he'd hit her time and time again, hated the way those hands that had once held her gingerly, like she was his world, now burned her skin, leaving bruises and cuts and tying her down from the beautiful life she'd once had, the life he'd given her.

Before the fights had happened, he had been her oxygen, pure and fresh. She'd lived on his essence, falling in love with him, headfirst, with no intention of backing out of their relationship. He'd helped her through everything, from work to friendship issues.

And now he was her only problem. 

The touches he gave her were few and harsh, normally to slap her or hurt her in some way. He still had his good days, the ones where he'd take her out and kiss her and make her forget what he truly was like. That was why she still stayed with him. But she couldn't take it.

She slumped onto her knees, welcoming the coldness emanating from the stone floor.

She wasn't sure what was worse, the physical abuse he'd put her through, or the way her heart burned and cried out, as if someone had picked it up and slowly submerged it in bubbling, scorching lava. Sometimes it rose out of the fiery magma, and sometimes it sank deeper. If it went any deeper than the point it was at currently, her heart would squeeze and finally shatter in a thousand pieces, dropping and scattering in the wind. Neither her body nor heart could take it.

Fat, wet tears trickled down her face, and she weakly swiped them away. She didn't like to cry, she had been told she was ugly when she cried, had been told it was a sign of weakness, but now tiny sobs wracked her body.

She tried to stifle them, forcing her mouth shut, but she could still feel them clawing up her throat, choking her, smothering her with their force, she couldn't breathe and -- 

She let them out. She let the tears drop, let the sobs find their way out, and she gave up .

She was tired of him dictating her life, of his hands and mouth hurting her, of his blue eyes burning a hole in her heart. 

He had changed, from the sweet, loving, charming man she'd fallen in love with, to the hard, cold, abusive stranger who knocked her around every night.

Well she wouldn't change with him. She wouldn't be the perfect, broken, obedient doll he wanted her to be. No, he might've changed, but she wouldn't.

She would stay the same as she was, beautiful, confident, a fearless warrior. She would wear her battle armor with pride, and she would not stand down the next time he tried to hit her. She was independent, didn't deserve to be treated this way, she was a queen in her own right, and if he tried to hit her one more time, then she would declare war on him.

No, he didn't deserve that much, she wouldn't give him another chance. When he came back, she was kicking him out.

~~~~~~

"Hey babe," he slurred, stumbling into the room, the scent of alcohol and sweaty bodies so strong she nearly vomited.

She refused to look at him. "Leave," she commanded.

In a flash, he was standing in front of her, holding her chin, forcing her to look at him. "What did you say, you pathetic whore? While I was gone, did you forget who is in charge?"

She stared him down, stared in those turquoise orbs that had been part of her dreams and nightmares. "I said," she gritted out, "leave."

He brought his hand up to smack her, but she caught his wrist. "Touch me," she snarled, "and I'll arrest you. I could tell them everything about you, and from the scars on my body, I think they'll believe me."

His eyes flashed with something like -- fear? She had never fought back before. Then the emotion disappeared.

"Feisty," he smirked. "As much as I like this side of you, let's reserve that passion for the bedroom babe." He leered at her, his disgusting breath caressing her ear.

She kneed him in his royal jewels. "I'll have you remember I have friends in high places, friends who can get you thrown in jail for the rest of your sad life," she said imperiously, like the queen she was. "You have half an hour to collect your things and get out of here. If I find you here after half an hour, I will call the cops. And anything you leave behind will be burned."

With that, she turned and stalked out of the house, head held high, posture perfect.

~~~~~~

He had taken the threat seriously. The house had been stripped of everything he'd put there, minus one photo. It was from before he had changed.

The scene showed the two of them, sitting by a lake, a picnic basket nearby, her head in his lap, him smiling down at her. 

Her fingers ghosted over the picture. She wanted it badly to be real, wanted to stay in that time when they were happy, but, she wouldn't linger on him.

She picked up the photo, and tore it into pieces. Dropping it into the trash can, she smiled.

She wouldn't waste the rest of her life on him, he was out of the picture, and if he came back, he would pay a price.

She didn't need an abusive jerk, because she was a queen in her own right.