I need to stress this before you go and read this chapter. This story will cover an abusive relationship, it will have detailed events of abuse. I am covering the process between being in a abusive relationship to breaking out, learning to find yourself again and learning to love. If this is not your cup of tea or are under the age of 18 I suggest you move along to the next fic and leave this one be. I speak from experience while writing this story as I have been there myself, to anyone who is reading this that is or knows of anyone who is in this type of situation know you can get out and YOU can find real happiness and love with someone.
The Pairing will start with Jasper and Jacob before becoming Jasper and Edward
A massive thank you massive thank you to my wonderful Beta who has spent hours with me talking me through this as I have been scared shitless to post it. A big thank you to Darkira for reading through the chapter before I posted it.
This will be updated twice aweek, maybe more, now that Right There is about to end.
Here's chapter 1
I looked at the damage in the mirror, starting from my feet upwards. The boot mark on my foot was throbbing, red, and painful; it was already swelling. There were wet marks on my jeans from the coffee cup flying through the air at me. My T-shirt was ripped from where I had been grabbed and pulled back. There were red finger marks around my neck from being pinned to the wall by his hand. There was a cut above my left eye that was starting to bruise and running with blood from where his fist connected with my face. There were teeth marks on my bottom lip where I bit my lip swallowing my screams of pain as he forcefully thrust into me.
My hands trembled as I ran the water in the shower, fighting back the tears as I discarded my clothing. The bruises on my chest and back hurt as the hot water hit my sore body.
It hadn't always been this way. There was once a time when he was gentle, loving and caring towards me, when I wasn't afraid of what he might do next, when I didn't have to tread carefully around him when he had been drinking. But that was part of the game, part of the master plan for control, for power. This was what it was, it was all to gain power and control, they looked for the right toy, ticked all the boxes and welcome to hell you go.
The object, the toy: pick them young and carefree, pick the ones that are maybe a little naive and needing a slight confidence boost, these people are perfect for grooming. I was perfect for grooming when I met him. Three weeks before my seventeenth birthday I met him. Young and foolish was I, if I knew then what I know now then ....... Well, I didn't, so that simple fact doesn't matter.
Jacob was twenty-one, just turned twenty-one at that when I met him. I had been out for all of a year, my experience with a man was limited at best. I was lacking in confidence and was looking for someone to love me, to make me feel beautiful instead of ugly that people in my childhood had lead me to believe. Jacob was like a breath of fresh air when he walked into my life, he seemed to be everything that I was looking for and more.
"Jazz come, please!" Alice begged me as we climbed into my car after college, I chuckled and shook my head at her.
"No way am I going to play the third wheel while you suck some guy's face off." She huffed and thought for a while making me think the subject was dropped only to feel her hand on my arm, rubbing it.
"Please Jazzy, he has an older brother who plays for your team. We could set you up on a blind date with him." She clapped her hands becoming really overexcited at me. "Jazz, you'll really like him. He's tall, jet black hair, and not bad looking." She begged and pleaded with me. I was in need of a good time, in need of maybe, just maybe, finding someone to love me for me.
"Fine, but Alice this better not be some climb through the bathroom window experience for me, okay?" Alice clapped and called this guy she was seeing. His name was something I didn't know, he seemed to just be called 'babe' or 'pumpkin' or 'sweetie' or whatever pet name Alice had come up with.
That night I sat in Alice's kitchen waiting for them to arrive. I was excited to say the least, my confidence was shattered, I didn't have any. You know the kid that gets picked on at school for no real reason other than the bullies didn't like him? Yeah, that was me. I had been told numerous times that I would never find anyone to love me, that I was ugly and that I would be forever single. This only stayed true when I found out or more figured out that I was gay. I had never had a boyfriend or girlfriend. I had never even been kissed, I mean really kissed. This happened to others, and not to me.
Personally I didn't think I was that ugly. I didn't think I was some Greek god or something, more geek god than anything else, but I reckoned I was somewhat good looking. But, what do you believe when you have had a lifetime of people telling you differently? You believe them and think that they are right, even if they are wrong and they are nasty and mean and suffer from their own insecurities. You still believe every damn word they say.
He walked in, his jet black hair tied behind in a ponytail, his brown eyes sparkled at me, his unshaven look looked amazingly good on him. To say I was smitten there and then wouldn't be an understatement. He flashed the most amazing smile I had ever seen, showing me a perfect creation of white straight teeth. These teeth should have been on some Hollywood actor, they were perfect, much like he was. I was sucked in as his deep husky voice hit my ears, introducing himself to me. His eyes hid depths of unknown, they took over you, cast a spell over you and made you feel like you were the only person in the whole world, there was no one else around for miles. My voice was high-pitched and came out shaky and uneasy as we shook hands, I was about to pull my hand away from his when he brought it to his lips.
"It's a pleasure." His breath fanned my knuckles as he spoke before placing his lips softly against my hand, holding it there for a second longer than I would have done before breaking whatever spell he was casting on me.
Heat ran through me, bringing my body temperature up a few degrees, making me sweat slightly. My heart rate picked up and my hands started to feel all wet and warm.
Switching the shower off I climbed out wrapping a towel around me and limping slightly I made my way to the bedroom. The sounds of his underground Hip Hop music told me he was going out to see his mates. Fighting the tears back I slowly lowered myself down on to the bed. Everywhere hurt, he had done a number this time. All over what? I can't remember. I was sure he had a reason why I took this beating, more than likely it will be my fault. He'll pin it on me like always, nothing new, same old same old.
Pulling on a pair of sweatpants I tried not looking at the bruising on my hips, the purple finger marks imprinting forever in my skin. In my mind, they would always be there, always there to remind me of the mistake I made. I pulled a Tee over my head and turned the plain gold around my third finger on my left hand, the gold band had cut into me from my fist being clenched. It was sore and red and it represented all that was wrong in my life, not all that was great like it should.
Walking down the hall and into the living room, I crept past him, not wanting to draw attention to myself, or causing him to stop what he was doing. Picking the cup up gently off the drainer I placed it on the side and touched the switch on the kettle as my body shook. I was drained, worn down, and broken in half. My skin crawled as I felt his breath on my neck and his hand snake around my waist.
"I'm sorry, precious. Did I hurt you?" His voice was sincere and full of sorrow as it normally was after a beating. Did you hurt me? What a stupid question.
"I'm okay." My voice was strained and shaky as I fought to keep it in check. His lips met my neck, kissing me gently where the finger marks now lay.
"I love you, Jazz. Always have, always will. You know that, right?" I nodded keeping my head down slightly, my eyes looking at the kettle the whole time. His fingers touched under my chin turning me towards him. I smiled slightly and gave him a kiss.
"Love you, too." Empty words now, but looking at his soft brown eyes I saw the man I fell in love with.
I guess I don't know why I stayed with him. I think I feared what he may do if I leave him. The promises of never doing it again will come, the gifts to say sorry will arrive and for a short space in time he will be the man I loved when we first met, the man who said he would sooner die before he let any harm come to me. With every passing year I believed less and less that things would go back to how they were, I know now that they never will. It was a game, something to pull me into the trap. There was no going back, this was how it was for me now, how it will be for the rest of my life unless he either kills me or I get him out. The second isn't as easy as one thinks.
"I'm off to Spike's. I'll be home later." He kissed my cheek. Yeah right, see you tomorrow more like.
"Will you let me know if you're not coming home?" Why bother asking you know he won't, he never does.
"Of course, precious. Don't wait up, I would hate to wake you." He blew me a kiss and I half smiled as my heart hit the floor again.
This always hurt, knowing he would sooner be out with his mate than be home with me. Being with me was boring and not much fun, whereas drinking and smoking with your retarded mate was high on the list of fun things to do. I hoped that one day he would be back to how he was, there were times when he was just how he was when we first met, where he would shower me in love and want to spend time alone with me, just him and I, these were few and far apart.
"I won't." I would, I always did, not sleeping until he came home, choosing to have the cover on the sofa with me half sleeping, half watching the TV until his drunken self came home.
Hearing the front door slam shut I dropped onto the sofa as the tears fell from my eyes. I would often sit and think about what I did wrong to deserve this, what I actually did that was bad that I got a life of abuse. To the outside world you would never think he was this way. He was loved by my family, loved by friends, no one knew the extent of what he did. He was always so charming, the picture of perfection to everyone, he would shower me in love and act like I was his whole world when we were out, but it was an act. With the sly looks I would receive if I allowed myself to relax and have a laugh, the comments I would get if he caught my eyes looking around the room, my guard always had to be up. I didn't even know who I was anymore. The person I once was had been long lost, I was now a shell of my former self. A body that held no living soul inside. My world was a living nightmare, my dreams that I once had, had been shattered the day I married him. God, what a joke.
I remember telling my family that we were getting married. They laughed, told me I was making a mistake. That while Jacob was nice and all, he wasn't right for me. How I wish I had listened, how I wish I had stopped myself from making the biggest mistake of my life, but I didn't. My parents' concern over me marrying him only pushed me closer to do it. I rebelled against them, thought I knew what was right for me, but I didn't. I was stupid, young, and fucking stupid. I was twenty when I married him, twenty fucking years old. I knew nothing. What does a twenty year old really know about life? Not a fucking lot. You look back at those times when you thought you knew so much and you realise just how little you actually knew. Three years later into our marriage and I now truly see just what I should have seen back then. In three years I had grown, become more wise with each passing year and gotten to a point in my life where I knew a little more.
Rose tinted glasses were on when I married him, I still believed the 'sorries' and the begs for forgiveness. The promises of change that never seemed to come. I did truly love him when we married. Our wedding pictures show me all loved up in my eyes, staring at him with all the love in the world, how I hated them now.
The very first time he made any sort of move toward abusing me was a little after a year into our relationship. We had just decided to get a flat together figuring that this was our next step in life. I can't remember what was said, or how it came about, but the glass of coke that was in his hand was suddenly in my face. That was his first move on me, his first sign of control. I think I happened to comment on some guy on TV and it triggered him off. Well, I think that's what triggered him off. Every outburst now was all so mixed together that I can never truly remember what happened to start it. How sad is that? Every beating I have ever taken from him and I can't even remember the reason, though I know it was my fault. It always is.
Now I know how his mind works, it works the same as every other beater out there. They all play the same rules, that was certain. And normally there was always a friend of theirs that actually tells them 'well done, old chap' and gives them a pat on the back. Jacob's was and is Spike's. He doesn't know I know this, for ear wigging into one of his personal chats with his best friend would result in a nice beating that would involve something, be it the wall and my face, or the belt across my back. If he was really pissed he may chase me around the house with a knife until I take hiding in the bathroom hoping to god that the lock doesn't break and he gets in.
Not long after his first actual slap he told Spike. They were in the living room and I was in the hall. Jacob hadn't heard me come in, so he had no idea that I could hear everything he said to his so-called best friend. He confessed to Spike that the night before we had had a fight which resulted in the back of his hand being whacked across my cheek. Spike being the greatest boyfriend in the world, who had actually beaten his girlfriend with a dog lead while pregnant causing her to lose the baby, slapped Jacob on the back and said "Well done, mate. He deserved it." I guess I shouldn't have thought any differently, I shouldn't have thought that Spike Mr. World's Best Boyfriend would reprimand him, because, after all, what Jacob did was the same thing that Spike does. Spike's parting words on the subject before I made myself known was "You know a slap doesn't count."
Let me make this clear. To him, he doesn't hit me. Slapping me with the back of his hand, that doesn't count as a hit in his eyes, as he didn't use a closed fist. Yeah, it makes sense, doesn't it? We'll just forget all the times when his closed fist has connected to various parts of my body. If I was to ever say to him, which I have in the past, that he hits me, he normally laughs and says "No, I don't. I've never hit you, only slapped you." To me, and to many others, it doesn't matter if it was a closed fist, the back of the hand or boot, it still counts as a hit.
I knew I wouldn't see Jacob now until tomorrow morning with a sore head and a bad temper. If he felt like being nice I might see him around four am, depending on how things go with Spike. Until he either comes home at some hour during the night or tomorrow I will end up staying on the sofa living off a few hours of what was nothing short of cat napping. I didn't know why I did this, why I continued to stay awake, to stay up and wait for him to return. I guess there was a small part of me that hoped and held onto the love I once felt for him, the love I once felt from him. As stupid and as dumb as it might seem there wasn't much I wouldn't give to have him back to the man I fell in love with all those years ago. The man who told me I was beautiful and gorgeous, how he loved me so much he could burst. Was asking for love a little too much? I guess it was.
The light shining into the living room woke me from my napping on the sofa. Looking around our living room the lamp was still on along with the TV that was turned down to a low setting. The house was just the way it had been when he left yesterday. I knew he wasn't home, there was no point in going and checking upstairs in the bedroom only to have my heart hit the floor when I realised that sleeping on Spike's sofa was more inviting than him coming home and sleeping in a bed next to his husband. If he had returned last night he wouldn't have left the TV on. No, if anything, the CD player would have been turned on so he could get a few more hours of tones, as he liked to put it.
Throwing the cover off me I pulled myself up slowly wincing as the pain from yesterday's beating had now taken full effect in my body. My whole body was sore and stiff. Sleeping on the sofa hadn't helped me, in fact, it had only made the problems I had yesterday worse. Lifting my Tee slightly I took note of the dark purple circles that covered my skin, over my ribcage and off to the side around my back. The bruising had come out fully now. I didn't want to see what my face looked like. I already knew that me going out to the outside world was out of the question for a few days until the bruising died down and I could get away with it.
Limping into the kitchen I flicked the kettle on and shivered slightly in the now cold house. Folding my arms over my chest I waited for the kettle to boil. My whole body ached, every part of me felt stiff and sore. Then again, every part of me was bruised, covered in dark black and purple marks.
He was always careful not to mark my face if he knew I had to go anywhere or if I was heading back into work the following day, but this time he had marked my face, this time it was there for the whole world to see in its fucking glory. Theses marks would take close on a week to go before I can leave the house and not be asked questions. He had timed it right. Fucking perfect down to the fucking minute. A week off from work, meant a week free from being out in public, it meant he could have fun and not hold back and that's just what he did.
As the water boiled in the kettle I decided I would take a bath to try and relax my body, while I waited for Jacob to return home. No doubt his mood would be bad, hungover from his night of drinking Cider and Snakebites. They might even have pushed the boot out and smoked weed, just the pair of them in a darkened room with their music playing as loud as possible.
Taking the hot mug of coffee I slowly walked down the hallway and towards the stairs. I winced taking in hard ragged breaths as I climbed the stairs. My hips were killing me, lifting my legs up just to a few inches so I could move onto the next step was murder. By the time I reached the top of the stairs the tears were pouring down my face. I felt so useless. How had I allowed this to happen to myself? How had I let it carry on for all these years, taking beating after beating and being pulled down to nothing?
I had always thought that I would never stand for it, that I would fight back and I would be out the door. That was before it happened. It's the same thought process that every fucker on the whole fucking planet thinks, but when it happens? When that person you love so much does it to you, you're powerless to do anything about it other than curl up and take it. It's easier to take it than to fight back. Fighting back makes it worse, ten times worse.
The water slowly filled the bath as I carefully undressed myself. I paid careful attention not to look at myself in the mirror, seeing the marks looking down was bad enough. I didn't want the full scale in the mirror. Taking a sip of my coffee I turned the taps off and climbed into the hot water. I winced and groaned as I stepped in and sat down, laying down in the bath the hot water covered my sore aching body. I felt it burn my skin before it numbed and sank through to my muscles.
I heard the curse outside before the keys went into the door and it opened. He was home, my not so loving husband had remembered where he actually lived.
"Jazz?" I heard him shout. Taking in a deep breath I pulled my act together, if he saw me in tears it could lead to more and I doubted my body could take another beating so soon.
"Baby?" He called again as his footsteps made their way up the stairs.
"I'm in the bath." I called back as my voice broke slightly. Clearing my throat I turned my head towards the door, I waited for his face to pop round the door.
"Hey babe." He smiled and walked in. Well he seems to be in a good mood for someone who normally should be hungover. "Jazz, babe...... your face." My face? My fucking face? Try my whole fucking body, Jacob!
"I'm okay." I lied. "It's not as bad as it looks." I lied again. "Did you have fun last night?" Like I care.
He touched my wet hair so softly while looking at me with his big loving brown eyes, and again I saw the man I feel in love with. "I'm sorry. You know yesterday could have been avoided, if you had only done as I asked. Then this." His eyes ran down my body and I felt sick. "Would never have happened."
"I know and I'm sorry." Always my fault, never his, never anyone else's but mine. The sick twisted thing about it was I would actually believe him. He would continue to give me these lines of if this and if that until he breaks through that layer that makes me question. It becomes to a point where you don't know what were lies and what weren't. It all blends together, all of it.
"Well, it doesn't matter right now. I'm nipping into town with Spike for a bit so I'm gonna get changed and go, okay?" He flashed a grin, a grin that pushed button's.
"Now?" I asked, almost demanding. His eyes flashed at me slightly before he took a deep breath and calmed himself down.
"Yeah, Spike's waiting outside in the car." He told me as though I should be happy by this little piece of information, as though this was fucking normal! If Spike was gay I would wonder if they were having it off considering he spends more time with him than he does with me.
"You were with him all last night! Can't you just stay here with me? Please?" Everything happened so fast, I never saw him move.
Water shot up my nose as my head was pushed under water, his hands were wrapped tightly around my already sore neck holding me in place. Instinctively my feet pushed against the bottom of bath trying to push myself out of the water, my hands gripped his wrists trying to get him off me. I couldn't breathe, the thought ran though my mind that this was how I was going to die. Battered and bruised in a bathtub full of water at the young age of twenty-three.
I gasped, sucking in large amounts of air into my burning lungs. My eyes stung as I coughed hard feeling the water in my lungs. Jacob's face was inches from mine, blazing in anger as he released his grip enough for me to be able to breath.
"Listen, if I wanted to stay in with you I would, but staying in with you is boring. Don't fucking bitch and moan about me going out, understand?" I didn't answer, I couldn't. My eyes just stared at his seeing a completely different man in front of me. He smashed my head back against the hard tiled wall, I closed my eyes as the pain shot through me. "Understand?" He growled at me, spitting in my face as he spoke. I nodded knowing there was no point in arguing with him. It was boring to be with me after all.
Sooo...... I'm going to go and crawl under a rock and hope that you guys review.