You didn’t expect it. Not like that. Not from him. The slap came fast—sharp, jarring. The room fell silent, like even the world didn’t know how to react. Your breath caught in your throat, tears burned behind your eyes… but they didn’t fall. You looked at him. And he looked back.

Something inside you cracked, and yet—shamefully, secretly—you felt your heart beat louder.

He hit me and it felt like a kiss…

It wasn’t right. You knew that. But your mind didn’t work the same way when it came to Rafe. He wasn’t gentle. He wasn’t safe. But he made you feel—everything, all at once.

There’s a trembling in your chest that isn’t fear. It’s adrenaline. Maybe love. Maybe obsession. Outside, you hear the faint cry of sirens—but it’s drowned out by the music in your head.

I can hear violins, violins…

He steps closer, and your body doesn’t move. You hate that you don’t flinch. You hate that part of you wants him to hold you, apologize, kiss the spot he marked.

But he doesn’t. He looks torn—guilt flickers in his eyes, but pride holds it back. “I didn’t mean to,” he mutters, barely audible. But it’s enough.

You whisper, “Then why did it feel like love?” And for a second, you’re both just standing in the wreckage of something that used to be soft.

He hurt me, but it felt like true love…

He taught you that love isn’t always warm. Sometimes it’s cold and bruised and leaves you wondering if the problem is him—or you.

Rafe taught me that… loving him was never enough.

But you still want him. You still stay. Because heartbreak from Rafe feels better than love from anyone else.

And that’s your truth. That’s your ultraviolence.