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April 4, 2010
After seeing the bruise on my face, I decided that I needed to try a different method in calming Will down. Because apparently, trying to get him to stay positive didn’t work. I wasn’t angry with him for hitting me though. I was distraught, but not angry. Will had a temper that he couldn’t seem to control, and I knew that. But I just kept on speaking positively anyways. I was the one who was at fault for what had happened, not Will.
I was the one who gotten Will so upset in the first place. I’d made him upset enough to hit me. How could I have done that? He was probably still furious with me. My heart began to race as I realized what this could mean, what he could do. If Will was as angry as I thought he was, then there was a possibility that he could leave me. I couldn’t let that happen though. I needed Will. I had nobody else.
But then again, he’d hit me. Punched me actually. Right in the face too. And now I had this ugly bruise the size of a golf ball on my right cheek. Yes, I was the one who’d been stupid enough to continue talking to him about the situation, but that still didn’t give him a right to hit me. In fact, now that I thought about it, I realized just how p***ed off I really was.
I was still pretty anguished at the thought of Will physically hurting me and then just walking away without an apology though. Because that proved that he really didn’t care about what he’d done. It proved that he thought it was ok to hurt me. He’d done it twice already. He was sure to do it again if I let him.
But I wouldn’t. I had respect for myself. Therefore, I wouldn’t go back to him…no matter how much I felt like I needed him. No matter how much I still loved him. I couldn’t go back to him. By doing that, I would be allowing him to hurt me again. I’d be allowing him to get away with it again.
The first time it was just a few scratches, and it was just because he didn’t want me to leave him. He’d apologized for that too. But this time it was different. This time he’d punched me in the face simply because he didn’t like what I had to say. I hadn’t even said anything offensive to him either. I had just been trying to help.
I felt sort of stupid, because I totally should’ve seen this coming. I thought back to the time when Will had first introduced me to Michael. I thought back to when Michael had said something that Will didn’t like. I thought back to when Will had punched him in the face for saying it.
Will was just a violent person. He had a very short fuse and when he got angry, all hell broke loose. This was really awful, because when he wasn’t angry, he was amazing. He was sweet, funny, smart, caring. He was perfect.
Why couldn’t he just be that way all the time? Then we could have a happy and healthy relationship, one that could actually last. But no, he just had to act all psycho whenever he got mad about something. He could’ve been the perfect guy for me, if he didn’t have that bipolar thing going for him.
Maybe he still was my perfect guy though. Maybe him hitting me was just an obstacle, a test to see if our relationship could actually last. Maybe I just had to forgive him and show him that I was willing get past this. Maybe if I did that then he’d realize what a great girlfriend I am. Maybe if I did that then he’d be able to tell me that he loved me and never hurt me again.
Or maybe he’d just see it as him getting away with hurting me again. Maybe he’d just see it as an invitation to hit me again.
Honestly, I didn’t know what to do. Did I leave him or go back to him? Both options were pretty risky considering all the possibilities. I just wished I knew how things would turn out if I did stay with Will. If they went back to being good like they were before then I’d gladly go back to him. But if things were going to continue to be like this then I knew that I had to get out of this relationship as soon as possible.
This decision was much too difficult for me to make. I had no clue what the right choice was. All I knew was that I still had feelings for Will, yet I was furious with him at the same exact time. These mixed emotions weren’t helping to make my decision any less complicated either.
As I sat there in my car, trying to decide what to do, I heard someone tapping my window. Startled, I turned my head to see who was there. It was Will. Seeing his face made my heart begin to race. I needed to choose what I was going to do, and I needed to do it now. Sighing, I rolled down the window.
“Hey,” he said to me. He seemed like he’d calmed down now, but the image of his outraged face still lingered in my mind.
“Hey,” I replied. I was self-conscious of the fact that he was staring at the bruise he’d left on my face. I wanted to cover it up, but I’d look pretty ridiculous if I randomly placed my hand on my cheek.
“I know it probably won’t mean anything to you, but I’m really sorry.” he told me. He bit his lower lip as he waited for my response. I didn’t know how to respond to that though. Did his apology really mean anything to me? I wasn’t sure.
“Why didn’t you apologize earlier?” I finally said. “You just left. It was like you didn’t even care that you punched me in the face.”
He winced when I said this, looking completely remorseful. “I’m sorry, but I thought it would be best if I left. I needed to give myself some time to cool down. I didn’t want to say anything else to you until I’d cooled off. In fact, I probably should’ve left sooner. Then this wouldn’t have ever even happened.”
He bowed his head shamefully, and I couldn’t help but believe him. He seemed so sincere, like he really was sorry. I knew that still didn’t make what he did ok, but it did make it a little bit better. At least he knew that what he did was wrong and he could admit that he was wrong for doing it. At least he felt bad about it.
“I wasn’t trying to make you mad.” I told him, my voice coming out in a whisper. More tears were filling my eyes and I realized just how vulnerable Will made me. “I was just trying to help. I hated seeing you so angry. I just wanted you to calm down.”
He opened my car door as more tears began to stream down my face. He leaned inside the car and pressed his lips up against mine, wrapping his arms around my neck. One of his hands stayed tangled in my hair, while the other worked it’s way down to the small of my back. I lifted my arms and placed them around his neck too. And when he lifted me up out of the car, I wrapped my legs around his waste.
He shut the door with his knee and then brought me over to the hood of the car, where he laid me down on it. He climbed up on top of the car too, never tearing his mouth away from mine. Now he was kneeling over me, his right knee to the right side of my waste and his left knee to the left side of my waste.
He had to lean down to keep our lips from parting, so his chest was pressed against mine. I could feel the rise and fall of his stomach with every breath he took. He seemed to be breathing at a pretty rapid pace, more like gasping. But so was I. It was just one of those kisses that knocks the wind right out of you, in a good way of course.
But as his pressed his lips down harder against mine, his cheek brushed against mine, which was bruised. Even the slightest touch hurt, so I let out a small yelp of pain and pushed him away quickly. He picked his head up away from my face and looked down on me with concern in his dark eyes.
“What’s wrong?” he asked me.
I bit my lip as more tears began to form in the corners of my eyes. Still silent, I scooted upwards so that only the bottom part of my legs were under him. Then I sat up to face him. “It hurts when you touch it,” I murmured. That was all I had to say for him to know exactly what I was talking about. The pain in his eyes told me just how awful he felt about it.
“Maybe you should put some ice on it,” he suggested, his voice soft and vulnerable. He climbed off of the hood of my car and reached out a hand to help me down. I didn’t take it though. I was able to get down by myself. He sighed and stared down at his worn black Converse dejectedly. “How many times do you want me to say I’m sorry?” he demanded, sounding penitent.
“As many times as you want, Will.” I muttered back to him. “But saying you’re sorry a hundred times isn’t going to change what you did.”
“Do you think I don’t know that?” he cried. “I know that what I did was wrong! And I hate myself for doing it, but there’s nothing I can do about it now. So please just tell me what there is that I can do to make you to forgive me.”
“Like you said, there isn’t anything you can do.” I remarked, keeping my tone even. I didn’t want to start yelling, because I knew that would just make him angry. And I wasn’t about to get punched in the face again.
“So are we just supposed to let this pass over then or what?” he asked.
“I don’t know, Will!” I exploded. “Ok? I don’t freakin’ know what we’re supposed to do in this situation! I’ve never been abused by my boyfriend before, so I’m really not sure what to do now.” I knew that I’d told myself to just stay calm, but how was I supposed to do that in a situation like this one? I had to yell. I had to let some steam out.
“Come on,” he said softly, his face full of sorrow. “I didn’t abuse you. I’m not an abusive person.” He was saying this mostly to himself, probably trying to get himself to believe it. But we both knew that it wasn’t true. Will had scratched my arm and hit me in the face. That was definitely abuse.
“You can lie to yourself all you want, but we both know that what you did to me was abusive. Did you know that I can turn you in for this? That you can be arrested for domestic violence?” I demanded. I saw a look of worry wash over his face.
“Evalynne, please don’t do that,” he pleaded.
“Why shouldn’t I?” I replied, practically shouting now. “Why the hell should I just let you get away with what you did, huh? What do I owe you?”
His fists were clenched tightly at his sides, balled up in frustration, and I saw the blue veins in his temples begin to bulge. He was getting angry, but he closed his eyes and sucked in a deep breath of air to calm himself down. “You shouldn’t turn me into the cops, because either way I’m suffering. I am dying on the inside right now, Evalynne. I am my own worst enemy right now. You have no idea how horrible I feel.”
I felt a small stab of sympathy, but I knew that I shouldn’t be feeling sorry for him. Not after what he did to me. “I think you need to realize that I could leave you at any moment. Do you really want that? Do you really want to end our relationship over this?”
“Of course not,” he replied. “I don’t want you to leave me either.” He took a deep, shaky breath, looking very nervous all of the sudden. His mouth opened, as if we were about to say something, but it took a moment for the words to come out. “I love you, Evalynne.”
He’d said it. He’d actually said it. Will loved me and he’d said it. I couldn’t suppress the joy that filled my heart when I heard those three magical words come out of his mouth. Because I knew that they weren’t meant solely for me. I knew that he meant it too, because it took him so long to say it. That meant that he was afraid, because he knew that once he told me, I’d know how he really felt. He knew that once he told me, he’d no longer be this mystery. He’d be open and vulnerable and that scared him.
Now the real question was whether or not those three magical words were enough to save our relationship. I looked into his eyes, filled with hope, and I knew instantly what choice I had to make. So I took a deep breath and told him. “I love you too.”