There was only so much abuse that she could take before the monster inside her was unleashed.
Bruises covered her arms and legs. Her tongue was still swollen and tender because of an “accidental” elbow to the face. Her fingernails were broken and ragged. Dark circles grew increasingly more pronounced. Her smile lost its charm, her eyes no longer danced in the light, and she evoked a negative, black aura that told of her internal change. Their relationship didn’t start this way. He seemed nice and genuinely wanted to help her heal from the abuse she received in her previous relationship. She needed time to open up sexually. He took it as her denying him pleasure and it enraged him. After two years, he took his anger out on the walls of the apartment, smashed trinkets to the floor, and called her psychotic and crazy. For years, he berated her for her lack of affection, her failings in the workplace, and even made derogatory comments about her body. Eventually, during a night of fighting, he told her that she liked the abuse, both from him and from her ex.
She bolted into the kitchen and grabbed the first large knife she saw. In a panic, dodged him and fled into the bedroom. The door slammed behind her and she quickly locked it. He pursued her and banged on the door. “What the fuck are you doing?!” he yelled as he heard her frantic cries.
Gripping the blade in her right hand, she sliced into her left arm and screamed. There she was, lost and broken, slashing into her arm like a frenzied lunatic. She carved her flesh like a monstrous butcher until he stormed in. He stood there, staring at her with his mouth agape and eyes wide open. Blood dripped from the open gashes onto the wood floor, her eyes wide and insane.
Are you fucking crazy?” he screamed, rushing towards her with arms outstretched.
“Yes, I’m fucking crazy! I’m fucking crazy!”
He descended upon her and wrapped her tightly in his arms. She screamed and thrashed her body, wanting to break free from his strong grip. He held her tightly, not knowing what to do. He knew she needed medical attention but was afraid of drawing additional scrutiny into their relationship.
She eventually collapsed under sheer exhaustion in a puddle of tears and blood, the knife landing on the floor with a metallic clank. He followed her to the floor.
Eventually, he grabbed her mutilated arm in an attempt to slow the bleeding down. He released her arm with a start when he noticed sharp, black quills protruded from the gashes and pricking his fingers.
“What the fuck?” he whispered as he slowly crawled backwards away from her.
“I need to call 911 for you.” He said, unsure of what was coming out of her fresh wounds. The quills retracted back into the slits in her arm. They closed and resealed themselves, leaving her skin stained with blood. He couldn’t tell if he was seeing things. She rolled over and stared at him, her eyes glassy with tears. She parted her lips and he saw fangs glimmer in the light. “I’m better now..” she whispered with a sinister smile.