Trigger Warning: this flash fiction contains descriptions of domestic violence and abuse. Please seek help if you are safe and able to do so.
Sparks
I can still taste how the blood filled my mouth that night and the sting he left across my forehead. It was a dull but slowly pounding pain beneath my skin. My eyes filled with tears for the millionth time that night, but I would not let them fall. I deserved it, didn’t I?
******
He was the kind of guy every girl wanted. He had a kind smile, pretty eyes, and could play the guitar. It made the girls swoon, some obviously and some secretly, like myself. I wasn’t in love, but he was a dream that I knew I’d never have. I was okay with that.
I was the quiet one. The first year of high school, I didn’t have many friends, but I slowly accumulated more as time went on. I dated a little, but never got in too deep. There were no sparks, no heart pounding moments, just me and the other person.
But then again, I close myself off. Always have. I lose myself in my art. That is my hideaway, my safe haven. And that was exactly what I was doing when he and I made first contact.