Cost of Love
If that's love, it comes at much too high a cost
It's not love. It never was, never will be. It can't ever happen.
He knows it not love, and further, she knows it isn't love. But if she lets herself believe the truth, what else has she to live for?
It's not love. Him rutting into her every night until she screams in agony is not love. The bruises on her face, breasts, body, those are not the signs of love. The bite marks on her neck, those are not love either.
Love, love is something she will never have. And she will never have it because she can't let go again. She can't let go of herself because if she does, she will never see the light again. She'll never redeem herself.
She'll never redeem herself anyways. He keeps her locked in the basement, where no one can see her. Behind soundproof doors so that no one can hear her. Away from the world, so that no one can save her.
Away from sharp objects she might use to relieve her pain. Away from the pills that would make this all disappear.
Her life is a nightmare, and she knows it. She can't muster enough caring to do anything about it, not that she could. He's so controlling, so…possessive.
It didn't start out like this, though. When they first met, he was nice, even polite; to her, and to other women. They began going out, and he didn't even press the issue of sex. Ha. She had been such a fool to think that he would be any different than other boyfriends. He wanted sex. He wanted it worse than the others, and he was willing to do worse things to get it.
She used to be able to outside, and see people. She would wear long-sleeved shirts, and baggy jeans so that no one could see the bruises. Her hair would cover her face, and she would wear a hat with a floppy brim to keep people from seeing the bite marks.
Your eyes can be so cruel…too cruel…
She exists, as much as anyone can exist when they're this broken. She hasn't eaten in almost a week, and barely feels the burn anymore. All she can feel is the lingering memory of his fingers over her skin, the pain in her groin, and the fear…always the fear.
It's only forever. I can last that long…
The door jingles, and she shrinks back into herself. He is back. Once more, she retreats into the sanctity of her mind, the last place she has left. Where she spends most of her days.
She doesn't have to see him to know that he has descended. His boots click on the stone floor, reverberating in her bones. She lies, crumpled up, in what might have once been the fetal position. Her muscles clench reflexively as the sounds of his footsteps stop, close to her knee.
A scraping sound sends shivers down to her core. A decisive click, and quickened breathing tell her something has changed. She cracks one eyes open, only to see a barrel pointed at her. A gun.
"Goodbye, little one, little slut."
Something in his voice almost makes her rouse, something- was it regret? Whatever it was, she would never know what it was, because a sharp crack accompanied by bloody pain interrupted her thoughts. One, two three. Three shots into her body, and her heart has almost stopped beating.
"I can't have any one find out about you. Now you're gone for good."
Her heart stopped beating.
Authoress's corner- Yeah, my darkest fic ever. I honestly had no idea where to put this, since it could be tweaked to fit just about every fandom, as I didn't use names. Since I have an image of feathers drifting across her dead body, I decided to make it another Akki fic. He, then, will now obviously refer to Shigure, because I hate that bastard.