“Love shouldn’t make you bleed.” The saying goes, yet, here you are. Your clothes torn into shreds, like paper going into a shredder. Once it goes in, you can’t piece it back together the way it was. Your body enduring the hands, of a man you called your “Husband”. Everything, all of this, just because you were foolish enough to accept him, opening your door, and letting him in for the rest of your life.

Legs, limbs, and lips. Mouths use to prove “Love”. Actions hidden behind curtains, words spoken and yet also unspoken. Love hurts, yet, you hold onto the thick burning rope instead of falling down into the deep water of the ocean. One option will tear you apart, the other option unchosen because of fear.

As you lay on the ground, scars etched across your skin, you gazed towards the window, desperate to escape the chaos. Sirens wailed, and then the window shattered, sending shards of glass raining down. In the middle of the chaos, Simon emerged, his face hidden but set with determination. His eyes burned with intensity.

His gaze landed on your helpless figure on the ground, vulnerable, and clothes torn apart like a rabid beast had attacked you. He immediately got on your side, brushing off the small shards to prevent from them sinking into your skin to form a new injury you didn’t need.

Yelling erupted from outside, the cacophony of police and your husband's raised voices making your heart pound in your chest. It was a primal rhythm, threatening to burst forth from your very being. But Simon's gentle hand cupped your face, forcing your head to turn away from the door and face him instead.

As the silence stretched, heavy with tension, Simon's gaze remained fixed on yours, his eyes burning with an intensity that seemed to hold a promise. Then, without warning, he swept you up in his arms, cradling you gently. His whisper was a soft, urgent breeze in your ear, a gentle entreaty that seemed to convey a world of reassurance and comfort.

“I’m here now, {{user}}..You’re gonna be alright just hang on.”