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Heavenly Mirage Edits
The Game Called Life
His hand pounded against her soft cheek repeatedly, and she searched for anything that could stop him. He was visibly making her weaker with every blow to her head. She yelled for him to stop, but it didn�t help much. She looked at the anger eyes of the man she once fell in love with.
She could hear the pattering of the rain on the windowsill. It was the only sound that she could hear besides the slapping against her sensitive skin. It was a stormy day. A day where you chill at home and watch romantic movies with somebody you love, but not them. On this rainy day, he was repeatedly striking her over and over. She whimpered, fearful of the monster standing in front of her.
�Don�t do this.� She begged him more terrified than ever before. The bruises on her cheek were a dimmed purple and in her mouth she could taste the blood gushing out of her lips. �Please, don�t. You�ll regret it.� She stated, softly.
His anger raged, and he hit her once more, a hurtful motion to her arm this time. �You think I care, bitch? You think I care what people will think about me, because you�re damn wrong, Rachel. Damn wrong that I would give a shit about what they thought. You�re a bitch, you know that?� He spoke more heatedly with every word.
She looked over at him, now feeble and pathetic. Her eyes were gloomy and senseless. Her body was numb and battered. All for love. �Why didn�t this work?� She sobbed, miserably, bringing her hand up to her swollen cheek. �What went wrong, JC? Why couldn�t you love me?�
He stared at her, silently. No emotions washed over in him- any thought, not once bit of shamefulness, no pitiful sorry. He just intently watched the girl crawled up in the corner before him without shame. �Because when you love somebody, they�re supposed to love you as much as you love them.� He spoke, dully. �You were supposed to love me, Rachel. You were supposed to be devoted, to cherish, to care about, and to simply adore me. That�s how I felt for you. But want to know what I think about you now?� His eyes were cold and distant. She nodded, slowly. �I think that you are a fucking bitch. You are a fucking miserable excuse for a girlfriend. You�re just an unworthy, pitiful, disgraceful whore.�
She picked her weak body off the floor in pain. Her head was throbbing, her knees were weak, and the rest of her was numb and shocked. �Then if you think of it that way, why am I still here?� She asked, quietly. �Why am I still wasting time on you? Why should I tell myself that you still love me when I realized a long time ago that you didn�t? Why am I in an violent and sadistic relationship if both you and me know that it was over a long time ago?� Her voice was hoarse, but fiercely powerful.
He looked bitterly at the young woman in front of her, with somewhat of regret deep in his heart. Her black and blue body looked fragile and dead, but she was still as beautiful as when they first met. �I don�t know.� He whispered, painfully.
He only watched as she crept across the floor, silently. She was finally leaving his sorry ass. He was a pathetic, lowlife, abusive, son of a bitch. She didn�t feel one bit sorry for walking out that door. Pained and beaten, she felt stronger than ever.
She was finally out of his life for good. It didn�t even come to her that she should�ve left him in the first place. He didn�t deserve her love, and from the looks of it, nobody did. It shouldn�t have happened to anyone. She shouldn�t have let a man interfere with her soaring dreams, her high self-esteem, or anything else in her life. Now, it was all over. Never again could he hurt her or would she feel lifeless.
He didn�t care anymore. She wasn�t the one who made their relationship that way- he was. He always knew he was the cause. He was the reason why she stopped loving him. It was the reason why he hurt her in the first place. He loved her, but he made her run away. He was the one that made her cry at night. It was his entire fault, he was sure it was always his fault. It was the game called life.