For Love's Sake.

“This was supposed to be the happiest day of their lives,” Deanna's voice quivered and had already shrunk. Shards of Veuve Clicquot bottles were scattered like roses around her, the marble floor of the Dëclorage hall had never felt more comforting than this moment. She groped around the glass shards, achieving nothing more than larger cuts in her palms; she was left alone, they all left...

He left.

***

"SHUT UP! SHUT UP!!" The shouting was violence in the air, a way to take the anger from him and transfer the tension in Deanna. He didn't just raise his voice, his muscles tensed and his eyes burned the color of fiery crimson...

She'd never seen his eyes that color before, the bright brown in his eyes had fluttered away, gasoline ran through his veins and his raised voice carried a sonorous wave of fear straight into Deanna.

She was so focused on that she forgot that his fingers curled around her neck, pressing, closing.

But her eyes were dull, there was no fleck or fleeting spark of emotion. She stood there, limp, the only action made being her small, delicate hands pushing his away from her throat.

It didn't work. It never worked.

 He shook her, screaming indiscriminately, straight at her soul. Still, she could do nothing; a dead look in the eyes was all she had for him.

Four years ago, when she had first called CPS, she had missed out many details;

first of all, this was the Child Protection Service. Deanna was 23.

second of all, she was drunk, sounded like a KFC dishwasher, and was choking on a Chipotle while on the phone call.

lastly, he was standing outside by the door, cracking his knuckles in preparation...

She had finally amassed the courage to speak up, unfortunately she was drunk, naked except for the IKEA rugs she had wrapped on herself, and most importantly and obviously, drunk.

Deanna broke out of her reverie immediately as she was, once again, shook violently against the wall. Tears which she could have sworn she never noticed were suddenly streaming down her face, then came the burning from her neck and eyes...

her mouth falls open, a strangled scream leaving her

 All the air in her lungs is gone, and her eyes nearly roll backward as she falls limp to the floor.

 Soon enough, he would call her name, he would shake her and cry and go on about how much he loved her and how much she meant to him, his voice would be laden with sweet honey and care...

soprano to bass, rabbia to amore.

She would be rushed to a hospital or something, and he would say she was drunk, she was high, she was having a manic episode.

 She would wake up, and almost as nothing had happened, she would weakly, in her blue hospital gown, say she loved him too.

***

 I'm still on the floor, my hands have stopped bleeding but they're useless to me, they hurt at every small flex of a finger. I can't stand it. Everywhere hurts, but nowhere hurts more than my heart, it felt like I couldn't breathe, my blood was probably pitch black with sadness right now. My eyebags looked much heavier, I could barely see, not that I cared. I just wanted him, I wanted to ask him to come back, beg him to forgive me. I knew he wouldn't, I shouldn't expect him too. A solemn tear fell down my cheek; my body looked calm compared to how tangled my mind was.

 If you minus the fact that I have been sitting cross-legged on a floor of broken glass since 8 am. It's 2:00 pm.

 I manage to get up, I don't bother dusting myself because this hall was so expensive that even the dust left out of respect. My hair is a mess, black curls tumbling down to the lace of my once-upon-a-time-dress, sweat and tears had made strands of hair stick to my forehead and the sides of my mouth, but I didn't care about any of those, I wanted...

well, I actually don't know what I wanted, but whatever it was, I wanted it, no NEEDED it, now.

***

He wasn't always a bad guy, he used to be loving, he used to sit Deanna down and tell her the truth, make up some, leave out some, but he never lied. He radiated peace, the hugs, the bike rides, they were such a cliché. Deanna didn't complain though, this was all she wanted, peace. Ever since she was 12, she dreamt of finding balance, finding joy, not like she wasn't happy; but her life was lackluster, void, and monotonous.

 So when she found Jerrod, she thought she found Heaven.

It didn't take too long for them to cement themselves in engagement, it had been seven years, they were ready. Everything was set in motion. Unfortunately, all the red flags stood before them, behind them, and in between them. Their cup was running over... and there was no stopping it.

 It was no surprise when Jerrod's heated temper, combined with the anger from his past, boiled up to his transfer of aggression towards Deanna. She was his punching bag, his outlet for his anger, he was rapid and hurtful with all his actions. Deanna loved him enough to want to help, but since she didn't know how to;

she offered herself.

 The engagement dinner was coming up, and Dee was anxious, anxious that Jerrod would explode having to see his folks, anxious that the day she had intricately planned and dreamed of for 15 years would suddenly fade away, and most of all, anxious that if it did work, that they would eventually get married and be trapped in this cycle of transgression forever; not like she was hoping to leave though.

 And then the day arrived, it finally came, her bedazzled Chloé Khaite ballgown was ravishing, her hair was in a beautiful updo, straightened briefly for the occasion. Jerrod was in one hand, smiling, he was smiling! Her heart finally left her mouth and stayed in place.

 "Today's going to be great. I love you." Deanna said in ecstasy.

"I love you too."

He never promised her a good day, she can see why.

 ***

"Two hours in and you're angry, breaking bottles, screaming, kicking everyone out. Telling me how I'm nothing more than the filler for a void in your heart. You're angry, you're so angry. I do not know why, but I assume it is my fault. I am yours and you are mine, I knew what I was getting into when I first told you I loved you, and now you want to leave because you're tired. After all, apparently, I strained you and made you feel worthless. I have bruises and you have unresolved anger against the world."

I write this down in my notebook because I cannot take it anymore, because my heart is broken and so is my brain, because come to think of it... he just needed help, not a woman, I'm not a therapist, but we were not in love. At least not from his end.

 But none of this matters anymore.

 I pick up the phone and dial his number, but it doesn't go through. It was 1 pm when I first tried, but by then, it was too late.