a Primal Pursuit

seventy three

TW: blood, vomit, abuse, & sexual abuse (from the past)

Lying bruised and broken on my kitchen floor seemed to be a great pastime of mine.

I often found myself lying in a puddle of my blood, and then later scrubbing the dried blood from the tiles with vigour.

Today was not the first time, and I doubted it would be the last.

Today, he forced me against my will.

Darius had come home from 'work' frustrated that his father would not promote him yet. I was plating dinner when the front door slammed open and his angry footsteps echoed through the house. I remember being scared, frozen to the spot as he marched into the kitchen.

He shouted at me, slapped me around, and cursed about how it was my fault. I had postponed the wedding and, therefore, postponed his promotion in the town council. Apparently, an unmarried man had no morals, and could not run a family business.

After being beaten until I bled, he forced me over the kitchen island and took me from behind. I had no tears left to cry as he used me, no tears for the man who had slowly become the monster under my bed. He had taken everything from me. But this time, for the first time, he didn't pull out right away.

I felt sickened as he cursed me with his finish, before he swore and pulled out, spitting the rest over my ass.

"Look what you made me do, you slut! You better get all of that out of your fucking cunt now!" He spat, smacking my ass.

I winced, feeling sticky and used as he zipped himself up.

"No words? You want to trap me with your stupid spawn? Is that it?"

"N-no!" I shook my head, spinning to look at him. "I did nothing!"

He snarled, and before I could react, grabbed the cooling pan from the hob and threw it against my head. The frying pan ricocheted in my ears, and I smacked the floor with a wail. I tasted blood; I saw stars, and I groaned with pain. My tongue felt heavy.

"Stupid woman." He spat, sitting at the kitchen island.

He ate the meal I spent an hour making without another thought.

I passed out.

Away from him.

Away from the monsters.

I woke in the same place much later and pushed myself up onto my knees with shaky breaths. Blood caked my hands, down my chest, and all over the kitchen cupboard. My head span and I couldn't hold back the vomit as it piled up my sternum. I just made it to the sink before emptying my stomach contents down the drain.

Sighing softly, I stared down at my bloodied hands. I would have to tidy the kitchen first, and then myself last.

I started with the cupboards, scrubbing them until they shone before moving onto the floor. Thankfully, the blood from the side of my head and nose had ceased to drip. It didn't take me too long to clean. It was the breaks in between I had to take to stop the swaying of the world that were the hardest.

Once the traces of the abuse were gone, I started on the dishes. Darius had eaten all of his food, and then what little I had left for myself. No doubt out of spite. My stomach churned with emptiness, unhappy with how I had been starved all day, and then purged what little acid I had down the drain.

Kind of like my happiness.

Squeezed to death and then thrown away.

Sighing once it was all done, I shifted into the bathroom and turned on the light. Under the florescent glow of the bulb, I looked like something out of a nightmare. I opened the cupboard and downed some painkillers with a gulp of water from the tap.