A/N: Hi, um.. First of all, thanks for reading this, even if you don't review (but please do, having people i don't even know reading my stuff is pretty new to me and i'm really hesitant on uploading my stories.) On this story, I'm really not happy with the ending, so if anybody has any ideas for a better ending, please email me and if I use your idea, I'll give you credit for the ending. And I've never been in this type of situation, so if there are any mistakes or just seems too unrealistic, please tell me. Thanks, I hope this story doesn't suck to much.

We'll sit in the car, me leaning on you, your arm wrapped around my shoulders. Watching a beautiful sunset. Other girls would be thinking about how lucky they were, to have such a great guy who took them on these romantic treks. But for once, I wouldn't be one of those girls.

I'll feel your warm, sweet, soft lips kiss my forehead and the soft breeze from when you whisper in my ear, will give me goose bumps all over my body. You'll talk softly about how much you love me. How great I look, what a wonderful woman I am, and that you don't deserve me.

That's when the tears will start to fill my eyes, and fall down my cheeks. I'll sit up and say that it's true. You don't deserve me, you don't deserve anyone. You of course will look hurt and confused and I'll take off my jacket, exposing my arms to the sunlight, something that I haven't done in months. I'll point to the oldest bruise, the one on my wrist.

"Remember this? This showed up after you grabbed my arm when I held up my hands to protect my face a month ago. Or what about this one?" I'll hold my other arm up and reveal a long thin scar that comes down from my shoulder to my elbow, "This happened when you chased me with a kitchen knife saying that you would kill me, it was about six months ago." I'll continue showing you one by one all the bruises and scars from the last year and half.

Two hundred and fifty six. Two hundred and fifty six bruises and scars that I'll show you. I'll tell you that I would have way over two hundred and fifty six reasons why I should leave you, why I should hate you, and that I would tell you how many reasons I really have, but it's impossible to count them all.

You'll say you're sorry. You'll say that you already said that you were sorry. By this time, my tears will be flowing like the Mississippi. You'll then get angry, telling me not to cry, that it shows weakness. You'll tell me that you don't understand, that I shouldn't be living in the past, that I said you were forgiven a long time ago. You'll raise up your hand to backhand me, like so many times before and for once I won't cower. I'll raise my head high, and tell you that I'm not the weakened one, that you are.

I'll tell you that I'm not defenseless anymore, that I realize now that I never was. I'll then get out of the car and walk away. To a life without you, a life where no one can give me another two hundred and fifty six reasons of why I should doubt myself.

I'll tell you this one day. But I can't tell you this today, or tomorrow. Just like I couldn't tell you this yesterday, or any day from the last year.

I want to stop, leave, I have all the reasons and all the proof that should convince myself to leave. But I can't. You have the key to my heart, and thus, you do leave me defenseless.

You see, you have me addicted. For every hit, bruise and scar, you follow it up with apologies, with such a tender touch that it seems impossible that those same hands caused me so much pain, that it makes me forgive you.

I feel like that I can change you. That you'll stop it someday. But somewhere inside, I know that I can't, and that someday I'll be able to take this dream of walking away and make it a reality.