Wish You Were Here

Charlie is an 18 year old who lives with her abusive boyfriend, 20 year old Joe- until a stranger changes her life, possibly forever...

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1. Suspicion

“Where have you been?” Joe asked as I walked in the door.

“I went to the shop,” I answered. “We needed some milk.”

“I would have got it.”

“Well, you weren’t here. And I needed it to make some coffee...”

“For who?” Joe snapped.

“For myself, we only had a tiny bit left and it wasn’t enough.”

Joe jumped up and walked into the small kitchen behind me, trapping me in. I knew what he was thinking. He always said it when we argued- so he said it pretty much every day.

“You met up with him didn’t you?”

“I didn’t meet up with anyone.”

“You’re a liar.”                                                  

“I don’t even know who you could be talking about,” I said opening the fridge and placing the milk in the door. “I don’t really get out that mu-“

“Don't lie to me, Charlie!” Joe shouted slamming the fridge door, “you know perfectly well who I'm talking about.”

“I don’t, I promise.” I replied.

“You know that you met someone and used the milk as an excuse.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Because you are a lying, cheating little bitch.”

“I’m not!” I exclaimed, “and I am not going to have you speak to me like that.” I started to walk, but he blocked my way. “Let me through.” “No. Not until you tell me the truth.” He snarled.

“I have! Why can't you just believe me?” I exclaimed, pushing past him out the door.

Joe grabbed my wrist and spun me round, pulling me towards him. His grip tightened and I could feel a bruise forming already. He's strong- and he knows it.

“Let go, you’re hurting me.”

“Not until you tell me the truth.”

“Please. It really hurts.” I started pleading. He just laughed. “Please.”

“You're pathetic.” He whispered into my ear.

 

That's when it started, just like always. It happened every day almost. It started off light, almost harmless really, but then it got worse and worse, and it got harder and harder to hide each time. There would be layers and layers, covering each other, as the time between got shorter and shorter. He didn’t care. Then afterwards, he would be all loving and kind- but that was only because he'd had a drink by then. Not always, though, he didn’t always have to have a drink to be loving and kind. But it helped; he was more loving after a drink. He’d be all over me, and I felt sick every time, but I had to hide that from him or it would start again, worse than before.

I can't really remember the first time it happened- but I remember every time after when it started to get worse. He'd always apologise, but he never meant it. I've only realised that now. He was so controlling, I didn't have any friends, especially not male ones. And I couldn't leave the house without him kicking off, saying I was meeting 'Adam'. Someone he made up in his head, but he was fixed on the thought I was meeting another guy. But how could I? It was hard to hide the bruises from Joe, let alone anyone else.

 

 

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