Be safe, love
“I’m very happy. He keeps me safe.”
It was small things. Small, precious gestures.
Asking her about her day, her friends; taking an interest in her life.
Tight hugs, an arm around her waist– warm and strong.
.
.
.
“I’m very happy. He keeps me safe.”
She wasn’t very close with her friends after all, and they were only using her, like he said.
It was okay. And now she had more time to spend with him.
He loved her most.
He protected her, kept a check on her.
His hugs were a little tighter, but it was okay.
He loved her.
.
.
.
“I’m very happy. He keeps me safe.′
He did.
Even from herself– her mistakes, her failures.
The marks on her body didn’t mean anything, they were just a reminder to better herself.
For her own good.
(“I hate doing this to you, love.”)
For her own good.
(“I love you”)
He loved her.
And it wasn’t something a little makeup couldn’t hide.
.
.
.
Whispers echoed in the room. The room– completely bare– for the solitary figure huddled up in a corner.
Too wide, frantic eyes looked around wildly.
A desperate chant spilled forth from chapped lips–
“I’m happy.
He keeps me safe. I’m happ-”