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It started small, bruises forming on your skin when his hold on your would be too tight, getting rough in bed, throwing shit when he got angry.

But Rafe loved you, he never wanted to hurt you, but sometimes you just needed to be taught a lesson, to be put in your place. At least that’s the line Rafe repeated everytime he cleaned a little cut he’d left or helped you cover a bruise with some foundation.

He did love you, truly. He was borderline obsessed with you, and he just wanted to keep you safe and with him. The bruises on your hips or the red mark on your cheek were just memories of him, embedded in your skin so he was always with you.

It’s easy for people to think there’s something wrong or toxic about your relationship, of course it is. But a part of you liked it, constantly waiting for the feeling of his hand wrapped tightly around your wrist or your hand cutting as you try to pick up the glass from the vase Rafe broke.

And they were all accidents, Rafe assured you. He was constantly apologising with his words, with fancy dinners and hundreds of gifts that you didn’t necessarily need. Because you’d always forgive Rafe, and maybe that was the scary part.

You didn’t need apologies, you were happy to help him relieve his anger. You were his girlfriend, you had to be there for him, didn’t you? Any good girlfriend would.

“Seriously, baby. You need to be more careful,” He says, tightening the bandage on your wrist, “I don’t know what I’m gonna do with you, getting into all these accidents.”

This had probably been the most extreme offence yet. You’d been walking up the stairs and lost your footing, but instead of Rafe catching you, he stepped out of the way and let you tumble. You were lucky it was only a sprain.

But you weren’t annoyed at Rafe, he was just shocked by the sudden fall, that he didn’t know what to do. Rafe loved you, he didn’t want you hurt.

He loves you, he loves you, he loves you…