Domestic Violence

Short story about Domestic Violence. FICTION

Men and Women are abused by their loved one(s) everyday. We need to do something about it.

His Arms

Sometimes he would have me sit and cuddle with him. I was happy, but afraid as well. I love him, but scared of what he’d do.

I would sit still, trying my best not to tremble. I would never know if he would just let me sit there, or notice I did something wrong and hit me.

I always tried listening to his heartbeat. I tried predicting what he might do. But I realized it was useless. He was always so... unpredictable. It was like he enjoyed hurting me.

Everyone always told me that his arms weren’t the safe haven they were when we met. I never believed them.


Sometimes he wouldn’t make me do chores. Most days I did, though. The chores weren’t all that bad, but they weren’t good either.

On occasion I would forget. But I would remember when he got mad. He would beat me, and then make me do all the chores again. One time he broke my arm, but he still made me do my chores. He didn’t care.

But I always would.


Sometimes he’d take me out with him. I couldn’t look at anyone else, so I would always just look at my feet. He would take me to meet his friends. I couldn’t even look at their shoes, so I just hugged him and buried my face in his chest. They would always compliment how lucky he was. My friends were always telling me that I needed to get away.

If I accidently looked at someone, even a girl or a friend of mine, he would hit and kick me when we got home.

He yelled that he wouldn’t warn me anymore, so he threatened to kill me next time.

My Make-up

Some days I wouldn’t be as pretty as he wished. He hit me on those days, almost always giving me a black eye. Then he would make me go and cover it up with makeup. I always had to put on more than the girls who obsess over eyeliner and dark eye-shadow.

When I was finished I had to show him. If he didn’t like it, he would hit me again and shout at me. If he did like it, he would get rough. I missed the days were I didn’t have to be forced to do something.

But this is all I know.


Sometimes he would invite his friends over. He would make me put on Concealer and makeup to hide my cuts and bruises.

He would let me look at them then, but just if I talked to them. He would make me sit in his lap, and he act like he loved me. I would be happy, but then I would remember that would all end when his buddies left.


Sometimes I was allowed to go visit my friends without him. One of them was training to become a doctor, so she tended my wounds.

“It doesn’t hurt” I would say every time. I would try to reassure them that I was fine. They would never believe me. They would try not to yell at me, telling me that I didn’t deserve this.

But nothing I’ve done says different, really.

The End

One day it just ended. I didn’t leave him, or turn him in.

It was right after I had finished moping the floors. He was wearing socks, yelling at me because the day earlier I had gone to one of my friends. Someone told him there was a guy there, so now he was mad.

He reminded me that if I even looked at another boy he would kill me. He was just trying to scare me and make me plead, but he grabbed a knife anyway.

And he slipped.

The knife flew out of his hand. I was standing just right, so the knife hit me.

He started to freak out, after seeing the knife in my upper adnominal area. I fell onto the counter, still weak from the beating I had gotten earlier. I felt lightheaded as my blood fell out in buckets. He just stood there, watching me fall, going into a deadly coma.

I never woke up, and he never got caught. My friends finally found out, and they mourned me and fought for domestic violence.

Just for me.


I realized I would never be loved. I would only ever be loved by my God, as I stay by his side up in Heaven. My friends loved me, but not the way I wished he would.

I could NEVER get any love from him. And now it was too late to try and do anything.

1 out of 4 women are killed by violent partners everyday.

1 out of 5 men are killed by a violent partners everyday.

The End

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