"Profe" will probably be the only one of my other stories that will get updated for awhile. I just don't feel like writting them, the reason "profe' will get updated is because I'm ahead I have written maybe till chp 28.

About this story it was inspired by two stories by WordsKingdoms, His Touch and the sequel His Lies. They are heart drenching stories, I recommend you go read them. Also it is a one shot.

Abuse

Why do you put up with me? Why do your eyes shine with love even after I hurt you?

“I’m sorry”

You apologize when I should be the one on his knees begging for forgiveness. What are you still doing here; months ago you should have walked out that door.

You smile at me threw you tear soaked eyes, you smile at me reassuring everything will be alright.

“It’s ok. I understand it was an accident.”

So fast to excuse me, to lie for me. Why do you put up with me? Why do you love me after everything I’ve done?

I didn’t mean it this time. I didn’t mean to again. You smile though it hurts, your lip lets a soft red tear slip, and my heart breaks with the sight of it. I want to reach towards it wash it away, you flinch back. Still a smile for me comforting that you understand.

“I’m fine”

You stumble onto your feet, not daring to turn your back towards me. Blindly you move to the bathroom, there you will apply your magic to make up my mistakes, think up my alibi. I watch you slip through the door, still unbelieving of what I’ve done. I stare at my hands, feeling as though they are alien to me, they cannot belong to me.

I hear you gasp, shudder and cry behind the white wooden door. Your strength vanishes in privacy, not a single tear spilled in front of me; you don’t want me to feel worst.

I stare at the door willing myself to walk towards it, but I know that if you don’t walk out our front door than it’s me who should. I don’t want to give you up, but I don’t ever want to hurt you again.

-

“Your home early” she is sitting on the couch a magazine over her lap. She smiles at him, but he doesn’t return it.

She clears her throat trying to think of something to say “Dinner is almost ready” he grunts in response moving towards the bedroom to take off his work cloths.

The phone in his pocket rings. Tiredly he shakes it out of his already discarded pants. He fights with the person on the other side, sick of his bullshit.

She moves into the room silently. The phone call ended already he stands stiffly staring at wall the discussion going over in his head. She calls his name and moves close to place a hand on his shoulder. He is startled. He turns around and slaps her across the face. He doesn’t stop he sees it is her, he loves her, but the anger is stronger and so he stalks towards her.

Menacing and tall each step making her shake, scurrying against the carpet to get away. He reaches down to pluck her of the ground, he doesn’t care that his caught her hair any part of her would do. He shakes her roughly pushing her towards the wall.

He yells about sneaking up at people as the back of his hand once more collides with her delicate features, her olive skin scrunches in pain. She keeps the dears locked deep in her soul, she knows this isn’t him. Those eyes aren’t his it will be over soon.

Just as fast as the anger invaded him, it fades. His eyes soften as though for the first time since he got home he sees her.

I want to walk through the bathroom door, to hold you in my arms and beg for you to forgive me, but you have already forgiven me. I know you won’t ever reproach me this, you’ll walk out of there with no signs of tears and well masked bruises as though nothing happened. You will kiss me lightly on the side of my mouth and ask me to join you for dinner.

I want to slip my fingers gently threw your black hair, I want to kiss your untarnished lips and promise you this will never happen again, but we both know it’s a promise I can’t keep. One of us needs to walk out the front door and after all the damage I’ve done it should be me. I pull some cloths out of the closet and my wallet of the night stand. I walk threw are apartment taking with me every happy memory you’ve kept alive ignoring my abuse and take them with me. I want you to remember me as a monster; I want you to move on.

I walk out the door and to the car, as I pull away I look up to our window and I see you there with tears rolling down your face, eyes asking why I am leaving you.

I want to know: Why you put up with me? Why do you love me?