Cuts P.O.V

I talked to Horn for a good few hours. It feels nice to have a friend for once. Social interaction isn't something that I'm the greatest at. My social anxiety is terrible. Not to mention my paranoia and overall appearance. Scars are imperfections and people don't like them.

Horn, 8:57 P.M.
Screw people who don't like you because of your scars. Everyone has scars! They shouldn't judge just because you scar more easily than them.

I laugh softly to myself. Horn is funny when he takes things too seriously. He seems like a sweet guy. Hopefully he won't be scared off when he finds out my baggage.

Me, 8:58 P.M.
I wish it was that easy. Unfortunately, if I dropped everyone who was ashamed of me because of my scars then I'd have to drop just about everyone...

Horn, 8:59 P.M.
You wouldn't have to drop me :)

A small smile spreads across my face from ear to ear. Horn barely knows me and he already treats me better than my partner.

Speaking of my partner, the door flies open and Ricky stumbles inside, a bottle of liquor still in his hand. I quickly turn off my phone and shove it into the back pocket of my jeans. I'll have to remember to apologize to Horn later.

"Hey, Sexy~," Ricky slurs out.

He wraps his arms around my waist and basically traps me from escaping. The smell of booze is strong on his breath. He's drunker than last night. At the rate he's going, his liver will give out before he turns thirty, and that might not be a bad thing.

"Ricky, you're drunk," I remind him softly, attempting to escape his iron grip.

"So~?" He only tightens his grip on me. "C'mon~."

"I'm not in the mood," I manage to choke out.

Suddenly, a hard hand smacks against my cheek, knocking me back to the floor with such a force that I swear I bounced for a moment.

"You're never in the God damn mood to do anything!" he yells, standing over me in a menacing way.

"I'm sorry!" I crawl back and freeze when my back hits the wall. I'm officially cornered.

"You never wanna do anything! What, are you off with someone else while I'm at work and that's why you're 'never in the mood'? Is that it?" Ricky screams at me, forcefully pulling me up from the floor and pinning me to the wall.

I attempt to cover my face to at least soften any blow he throws at me. Unfortunately, it doesn't do much. The pain still comes full force. The only thing that may be less noticeable are the bruises, but they'll still be dark.

"There's no one else, Ricky! I swear!" I choke out through my tears, which started flooding my eyes after the first punch.

Ricky never seemed to notice my agony. That, or he just didn't care. He wants to punish me for a crime I never committed. I've been nothing but loyal to him throughout our entire relationship, yet he's the one beating me. I bet I could find at least three people on his phone that have sent him lewd photos.

"Prove it!" He pins my arms to the floor, preventing me from crawling away.

"Leave me alone!" I cry out, hoping that one of the neighbors might hear my cries of distress.

"Shut up!" He lifts me up and slams me against the floor, silencing my screams.

The pain is agonizing. I'm going to be covered head to toe in bruises, that's already obvious. Ricky doesn't care because he's drunk. He never cared when he's drunk. He never has and he never will. The only reason he would stop doing this right now is if he snapped my neck. Which, if I'm being perfectly honest, wouldn't be the worst thing to happen.

"Please. . . Ricky," I beg softly, "stop."

Ricky grabs my legs and begins to drag me through the living room. I desperately try to grab onto any piece of furniture that's within my reach; the ottoman, chair, coffee table, anything. Each time I manage to get my fingers wrapped around something he gives a rough tug and makes me lose my grip.

"Please, Ricky," I cry, grabbing onto the doorframe as a last attempt.

"Quit your whining," he growls through his teeth.

"Let me go," I beg, clutching to the doorframe with all my strength.

Ricky's fingers are going to leave bruises around my ankles. After tonight, my entire body will look purple. I'm not sure that there's a single inch of my body that isn't bruised in some way. My pale skin is becoming a dark grey-purple. It's going to make me want to stay in the house more than usual, even though that could be one of the worst decisions to make.

"Shut up, whore," he barks, ripping me from the doorframe.

I bite my lip and attempt to swallow the lump in my throat. I don't see this having a very happy ending for me. Although, nothing I've ever done has had a happy ending. All I know is pain and suffering.

Ricky grabs the neck of my shirt and throws me against the staircase. I smash my head against one of the wooden steps, now receiving a throbbing pain in my head. He has to practically drag my body up the stairs to our room.

In my disorientation, I try anything to loosen his grip. I even vaguely remember biting his arm because of how tightly he was gripping my shirt. I believe he hit me and knocked me into the wall, but at this point, everything is becoming fuzzy.

I have to keep fighting. I can't give into him. All my life I've been tortured and mistreated. I won't be able to take much more of this abuse. I have to get out of here.

Ricky tosses me onto the bed like a ragdoll. The soft bed is a nice change from the hard floors and walls. Unfortunately, it doesn't stay nice for long.

Ricky pins me down to the bed and looks for something to bind my hands with. When he reaches for something on the nightstand, I send my knee roughly to his groin. He nearly collapses off the bed. I take the opportunity to run from the room, locking the bedroom door from the outside. This is my only chance to escape. I know Ricky will never forgive me for this.

I run down the stairs as best I can, being cautious and using the handrail. I have to move quickly. Ricky is upstairs, throwing himself against the door in hopes that it'll give way and that he'll be able to trap me in this hell-house.

Luckily, I haven't lost all my senses. I'm not exactly in my most rational state of mind, but I have enough sense to bolt for the back door. The forest is my best bet, knowing Ricky doesn't like the outside very much. He especially wouldn't bother looking at night.

I open the back door right as Ricky breaks through the bedroom door. I'm cutting it close. I make a run for the forest, not even trying to avoid getting scratched by branches.

"Vincent!" Ricky's voice comes through from a distance. "Get your ass back here!"

I don't listen. I don't even look back. I'm leaving everything behind. The forest is dangerous and the night is cold, but it's my only choice for now. I'll finally be free.