Put Your Hands Up in Chapter 8 : Time to Heal

⚠️ Domestic Violence, Rape ⚠️

So…

That wasn’t the last time it would happen. I probably would have stayed if it had only been the once. I would have somehow justified it to myself, but it wasn’t just once.

That day I made sure I had plans. I wouldn’t be home that night. When I returned home he was at work but he walked through the door soon enough. He came up behind me and put his arms around my waist, attempting to affectionately nuzzle my neck.

“Don’t fucking touch me.” I hissed as I spun out of his grasp him to face him. His expression was one of shock, shock that finally a woman was standing up to him.

“Babe? What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong? WHAT’S FUCKING WRONG??” I screamed at him. “Don’t come the cunt with me you fucking pisswheel. You know EXACTLY what’s wrong, what you fucking did.”

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His face clouded over, he knew he was on the ropes and that I was prepared to nail his balls to the fucking wall. He leaned in close, snarling “What did I fucking do?” The smirk on his face told me all I needed to know.

“You fucking raped me.” From nowhere there was the clap of flesh being struck and the warmth spread across my face, instinctively I fought back, my fist met repeatedly with his face, blows landing on his nose and cheeks. “You dumb fucking bitch” he growled as the blood trailed from his nostrils. “If I was going to rape you I’d do it like this…” and with that he knocked me to the ground and raped me again on the kitchen floor.

As he got on his feet there was no decleration of love like last time, this time I was given a final warning, “fucking mention it again and I’ll blow your fucking head off.”

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If I’d had ANY sense I’d have shot him with his own damn gun.

Two days later I got on a plane home.

Last updated January 15, 2018