While I was waiting for my girlfriend to hit me, nothing happened. There was no slap, or anything of that sort. So, I slowly opened my eyes, and found her looking at me with concern on her face.

“I’m sorry,” she finally said. She was about to give me another “I’m sorry” speech. I was used to it, so I sat listening to her tell me how she did not mean to hit me, how it would not happen again, how I should stop flirting with the girls from my school, and how I made her angry. While that was happening, I just sat there listening to her go from one word to the next.

“Take off your t-shirt,” she said after her speech. I did as I was told, no questions asked. She then looked at my bruise, and it was dark black with a pinch of purple. “Lay down,” she told me, and like a robot, I lay down. She touched it.

“Ouch,” I let out, and she looked at me.

“I’m sorry,” she said again. She stood up, went to the kitchen, took an ointment, and slowly applied it on the bruise. She was very gentle as she did so, and I watched her in silence through it all. She was concerned. “You’ll be fine in no time,” she said, smiling at me.

I nodded in response, and, while she was busy, I felt tears on the corner of my eyes, but I did not dare cry.

“Let’s cuddle,” she said.

I got closer to her, and she gently she put her arms around me. I enjoyed it when she took me in her arms because I felt loved and safe. But they were the very same arms that had beaten me just a few hours before. But, I closed my eyes anyway, and her skin was warm and soft.

“Babe?” I said.

“Yes?” she responded, slowly stroking my back.

“I love you … so much,” I said.

“I love you too,” she responded, kissing my head.

While we were busy, my phone rang. It was my dad. I knew he was worried about me because I was not at home. I did not answer it, though. The moment I was in was perfect, and I did not want to disrupt it.

“That girl … she’s nothing to me,” I told her.

“She’d better not be anything to you. I will hurt anyone who tries to ruin us,” she said, and I kept quiet. “Even you,” she continued.

I nodded in response, because I knew very well what she meant. When she once caught me kissing a girl from my school, she pulled me to her car – dragged me, to be exact – and when we got to her house, she beat me, but she made sure not to badly ruin my face.

“When will you let me go home?” I asked, worried about what my parents would do when she finally let me go home.

“Monday. You’ll leave here for school, then go back home,” she responded, calmly.

I nodded in response. I did not want to argue because I knew that I would get beaten if I did. “They must be worried about me,” I said after a while.

“You’re fine, aren’t you?” she responded, pushing me off herself.

I suddenly felt cold – lost and cold. I nodded in response, and she folded her arms.

“I’m Sorry,” I found myself saying. I actually did not know what I was apologizing for. She bent towards me, and put her lips on mine. I kissed her back, but then she stopped, turned her back on me, and slept. I did the same.

***

Tell us: Why do you think our main character has not told her parents about the abusive relationship she’s in?