It was quick, the first time Rafe had ever hit you, a swift slap across your cheek. It caused you to stop talking, to just stand there in pure shock at what he just did, holding your cheek in pain.

"I shouldn't have to do that." He muttered a couple hours later, his head lying in your lap. "I know," you whispered back while running your fingers through his hair, not sure what to think.

It continued like this for quite some time, every other argument, it would be some kind of physical contact, a slap, a firm grip on the arm, a tight grab of your cheek, anything to make you stop talking and listen to him.

You wanted to leave, to do something to make him stop, but you couldn't, you physically could not leave him. Even if you did, the fear of him turning up again behind your back would haunt you every day.

And as much as you didn't want to admit it, you craved that touch, the power of him being in control, you needed it. Plus, he would care for you after, kiss your wounds better so it didn't matter...right?

So you stayed through it all, every bruise, every cut, you stayed.