Title: I Deserve It
Completed: February 7, 2005
Summary: When she thinks about it, she knows she deserves it. (Warnings: Abuse)
It's purple and yellow, and ugly. And I can't stop staring at it.
The sick and sore stain next to my left eye: throbbing to the touch and ugly to the sight. I wonder if it smells like anything, if it tastes different than the rest of my skin, or if there's any sound coming from it? It's taken over all my senses. I think I might be obsessed with it.
Does it make me ugly?
He gave it to me for a reason. One swift smack because I had done something wrong, to him. It's always according to him, but he takes the time to love me, he sees something in me that's worth loving. I don't know why he puts up with me, or why he bothers to keep me around. I've never understood it, and he can't seem to explain it.
Or am I making it ugly?
No one can see it but me, I hide it. Carefully tucking it away, burying it under make-up and stringy hair. It's mine. He gave it to me, only me. No one else would understand it.
That bruised and scratched up skin is there – I think they can see it, but they don't want to know and they don't want to see. They avoid it. I can't avoid it, I live it. I must remember it.
What about the other ones?
They will heal; they will fade from their view. My arms will once again be soft and pale, unmarked, if I remember. It I behave, no dark marks will be needed to remind me. No imprinted finger marks showing where he was, what he grabs, mapping out what's his – if I remember. It's up to me to remember and learn.
He tells me this – warns me of it, always warned me of it. He has knowledge and ability. He is strong and powerful, and wise. He only wants to teach me. He takes the time to love me, and it takes a lot to do that. They can't understand that, they don't know how hard it is.
I'm making it ugly, because everything he does is beautiful and right.
I must have deserved it. I said too much, I crossed the line. He warned me, told me what to do, and I didn't listen – I did deserve it! It was a punishment, it was a lesson – I had wronged and he had to right me, make me remember it. There is a lot I need to remember. A lot I need to know. There are things that need to be fixed, and things that need to be changed.
It's making me beautiful.
There is so much to punish me for, so much to cleanse me of. I've been so dirty and ugly – with men, my lying and disrespect. I've talked back, spoken against. I've never known my place. And these must be cleansed away. What's a few hits and bruises if it will all fix me, and make be beautiful and worthy of his love?
I deserved it, and should thank him for it.
Notes: I do NOT condone abuse at all. Obviously, the narrator in this piece needs help.