❝ . . . '𝐂𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐈'𝐦 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐣𝐚𝐳𝐳 𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐜𝐮𝐥𝐭 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫. ❞

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Violet, blue, green, red.

The color of your bruises. You winced as you put the ice on one of the wounds, the icy sensation stinging your skin. Lana hit you again, but to you, it felt like true love. No matter how much she put you through, you loved her. Even if it was never enough.

You and Lana have been childhood friends. You always admired her, she was everything to you. The perfect dream girl. Soon, that dream faded into reality. When you decided to ask Lana out and break that friendship, it was the best and worst decision you’ve ever made.

Remembering all of the sweet memories and painful moments. God. . . when was the last time she was nice to you?

From the outside, you two were high school sweethearts but behind closed doors, it was all toxic and violent. She would do anything to make you feel less of a human. It’s a surprise she kept you around but you knew she only did because she hates being alone.

Though, after all that, you and her are “soulmates” as she would say. You will always love and obey her despite her ultraviolence.

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You were on the cold tiled floor, continuing to put ice on your injuries. A tear rolled down your cheek, but at this point, you were used to this. Used to the pain she would put you through. Looking over to your phone, you were thinking of calling 911. You hand slowly reaching to it as it laid in front of you on the floor. All of a sudden, you stopped.

You just couldn’t bring yourself to get help. No matter how much you wanted to, you just can’t.

Just then, you hear that melodic voice that made you fall in love the first time. She was outside of the locked bathroom door, “Babe, I didn’t mean anything I said. I just. . . I lost control, please forgive me.”

Those same words you would always hear after a fight, it was all too familiar.