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LJ Idol Week 17: "Scare Quotes"
Aug. 12th, 2014 02:49 pmDisclaimer/trigger warning: All of the below is fiction, but there is an implied reference to domestic violence.
They called it “love”.
The stacks of toys that filled her room. The dolls, the kitchen sets, the fluffy new puppy.
The fairytale books that described a life she could only dream of.
And when she was older, the shoes, the purses, the keys to the shiny new car.
She stared out the window and waited for someone to get home. Not that it would matter if they did.
The cold silences. The barely there pecks on the cheek. The empty space where words she ached to hear would never come.
“You’re so lucky,” her friends would say, jealousy evident in their tone.
“You have no idea,” she’d reply.
•••
He called it “love”.
Big smiles, exuberant words, constant touches, tight hugs. He was different than anything she had ever known.
“Love at first sight,” everyone said, and why wouldn’t she believe them?
He bought her jewelry and dresses and dinners at fancy restaurants. He showed her off and told everyone he loved her.
In private, he gave her even more.
Bruises under her clothes, harsh words in the dead of night, continual utterances that she brought it on herself.
“But I love him,” she whispered to herself in the mirror every morning. “He loves me.”
But the broken wrist told a different story. One that took her far too long to read.
He came home late. He grabbed her arm a little too hard.
“I only do it because I love you.”
•••
She met her in a coffee shop when she was supposed to be home cleaning. She was dark-haired and dark-eyed and her name was Emily. She paid for her drink when she realized in horror he had taken all her money.
She came back the next day to pay her back. Instead they talked for an hour.
She came back the day after that. And then the day after that. Emily was there every time.
Emily bought her coffee, but the gifts didn’t stop there.
Small smiles, words of wisdom, soft touches that reminded her what it felt like to be alive.
With Emily’s help, she packed a small bag in the middle of the night. He hadn’t come home. She didn’t leave a note.
They made a new life, far away from everything. Their house was small, the car run-down, the clothes not anything like the ones she once wore.
She thought about her parents and the man she left behind.
She thought about herself and the strength she’d finally found.
They had called it love.
She finally knew they had been wrong.
They called it “love”.
The stacks of toys that filled her room. The dolls, the kitchen sets, the fluffy new puppy.
The fairytale books that described a life she could only dream of.
And when she was older, the shoes, the purses, the keys to the shiny new car.
She stared out the window and waited for someone to get home. Not that it would matter if they did.
The cold silences. The barely there pecks on the cheek. The empty space where words she ached to hear would never come.
“You’re so lucky,” her friends would say, jealousy evident in their tone.
“You have no idea,” she’d reply.
•••
He called it “love”.
Big smiles, exuberant words, constant touches, tight hugs. He was different than anything she had ever known.
“Love at first sight,” everyone said, and why wouldn’t she believe them?
He bought her jewelry and dresses and dinners at fancy restaurants. He showed her off and told everyone he loved her.
In private, he gave her even more.
Bruises under her clothes, harsh words in the dead of night, continual utterances that she brought it on herself.
“But I love him,” she whispered to herself in the mirror every morning. “He loves me.”
But the broken wrist told a different story. One that took her far too long to read.
He came home late. He grabbed her arm a little too hard.
“I only do it because I love you.”
•••
She met her in a coffee shop when she was supposed to be home cleaning. She was dark-haired and dark-eyed and her name was Emily. She paid for her drink when she realized in horror he had taken all her money.
She came back the next day to pay her back. Instead they talked for an hour.
She came back the day after that. And then the day after that. Emily was there every time.
Emily bought her coffee, but the gifts didn’t stop there.
Small smiles, words of wisdom, soft touches that reminded her what it felt like to be alive.
With Emily’s help, she packed a small bag in the middle of the night. He hadn’t come home. She didn’t leave a note.
They made a new life, far away from everything. Their house was small, the car run-down, the clothes not anything like the ones she once wore.
She thought about her parents and the man she left behind.
She thought about herself and the strength she’d finally found.
They had called it love.
She finally knew they had been wrong.
