"Don't, Anna," he hissed, raising his hand.

A threat.

"You can't risk making another mistake," he sneered, advancing on me a little. I tripped over my feet in my haste to retreat. My head was pounding. I couldn't even think. I felt the bruise on my right shoulder scream in a warning. Not today, it pleaded. Please, not today. I couldn't take Bennett's hate twice in one day. "And you wouldn't want to make me mad again," he continued, spotting the vacant expression on my face and getting even angrier, "would you?"

His voice turned up at the end of the sentence. It was not rhetorical, then. I was to answer this question.

"No," I said quickly, "no, of course I wouldn't. Bennett, baby, I love you..." I reached up to touch his face, to kiss him, but he swatted me away.

"I'm not in the mood, Anna," he hissed. "I'm going out." He shouldered his leather jacket and slid his hands into the pockets. I wanted those hands to hold me. To caress me. To remind me that I was worth something to them besides target practice.

"O-out?"

"That's what I said," he snapped, looking up at me like I was an idiot. "What, feeling a little slow today?"

"No, Bennett, I meant... out, where?"

"Out to Kaitlyn's."

Kaitlyn. I wondered if he beat her, too.

Or maybe it was just me. Maybe I really did deserve it. Maybe I should've worked harder; been better.

Maybe if I just...

"Bennett," I said suddenly, lurching towards him, "don't go. Stay here. We can eat. I'll cook. I just... I just have to run out and get some stuff.... " I placed my hand on his upper arm. Hope coarsed through my veins, and my heart started beating faster. "I mean, I haven't gotten my paycheck yet, so it might be a small meal, but c'mon, baby..."

He jerked away from my touch. "Get your hands off me." He stared at me in disgust, slowly shaking his head. "I'm going to meet Kaitlyn. I told you." He crossed his arms. "You really haven't gotten your paycheck yet? Dammit, Anna, do I have to do everything?"

"I'm sorry, Bennett," I whispered, hanging my head. He was right.

I was worthless.

"So you're going to Kaitlyn's then?"

"Yeah," he said. "But hey... c'mere."

I looked up at him again, tentative. He gestured urgently, and I carefully took a few steps forward until we were only inches away. I gazed into his eyes-- his blue, clear eyes-- and waited for him to say something. Do something. But all he did was stare at me, a smile tugging on his lips.

"I love you," he reminded me. Because I needed reminding. "I say these things because you deserve them. I'm trying to make you better."

"I know," I said. And I did. He was only trying to help. I was lucky to be with somebody who wanted to improve me like he did.

"Good," he grinned. He wrapped his arms around my waist and picked me up a little so our lips were even. He forced himself onto me, and I felt myself get flooded with relief.

He carefully set me back down and kissed my forehead. He turned for the door and jammed his hands back into his pockets, tossing his head so his long black hair would resettle over his left eye.

He left without looking back.

I stared at him as he slammed the door behind him, my heart beat suddenly quickening.

I missed him already.

Crossing to the couch and collapsing, I closed my eyes in delirious exhaustion. Bennett was my everything. He was a part of me, a piece of my heart. I needed him. He made me a better person.

He fixed me.

He picked up the shattered, confused, torn pieces of me, and put me back together with tough love.

Because that's all it was: tough love. And tough love was still love.

Right?

My thoughts faded into dreams, and I began to drift back to the day we first met.

Water. Splashing up from puddles, soaking my stilettos. The aftermath of a convertible disappearing down the street.

"Thanks a lot, asshole!" I screamed after the red bumper.

A loud laugh splashed against my ears as harshly as the water had, and I spun around, sneering.

"Hey," the man said, and the taunting yet comforting grin bit into my anger, soothing and provoking it at the same time. "Chill out. At least that car wasn't your girlfriend's." He sunk back a little bit. "Exgirlfriend's, I guess."

I felt a rush of compassion and sympathy wash over me. "Oh, my God. I'm so sorry."

He shrugged and fought to resurface a smile. A gorgeous, breathtaking, haunting smile. 'That's okay." He stared at me. No, that wasn't right. He stared into me. "This is random," he said suddenly, his voice assuming nonchalance, "but... do you want to get drinks some time?"

I laughed, smiling at him pityingly. "You're kidding, right? You said your girlfriend just broke up with you."

He sighed. "Other way around. I was the one who broke it off." His gaze wavered a little. "She... she was cheating on me." He shook his head and looked back up at me. "I can't waste time dwelling on a b**** like that. I need to move on."

"So I'll be a rebound?"

He admired the way my jeans fit."You'll be a hell of a lot more than a rebound." He stuck out his hand. "Bennett."

I shook it, and heat folded between my thumb and pointer fingers. It felt... right.

"Annabelle."

His gaze pierced me, suddenly changing from a flowery charm to an irresistable steel.

"I don't think so. How about I call you... Anna?"

It wasn't a question.

It was a decision.

And I accepted it, falling into step with him as our handshake turned into an interlocking of all ten digits.

My eyes flew open and I sat up, feeling a tear start to push its way out of the corner of my eye.

I had no right to miss my life before Bennett. Because before Bennett, there was no love in my life. No protection. I wasn't whole. I was missing something-- someone-- and if I couldn't appreciate what I had when I had it, I would lose it. All because I was an ungrateful little b****.

Did I just think that?

I shivered and stood up, my eyes wide with a sort of horror. He was in my head. He was in my head. I lifted two clenched fists to my temples, trying to squeeze out the internal abuse. Trying to squeeze out Bennett.

"No!" I moaned, dropping to my knees in tears. Conflict filled my mind. I couldn't get rid of him. He was with me. Even in the deafening silence of my empty apartment, he was with me. Watching me. Sneering at me.

But he was there because I wanted him to be. I could make him leave anytime I wanted to.

I loved him. I did. Just as surely as he loved me. Just as surely as he was there to protect me, to save me, to pick me up when I fell down.

I stood up and rubbed away the tears, wiping my hands off on my jeans. I was suddenly filled with renewed confidence, renewed love.

I sat down on the couch and drew my knees up to my chin, a small smile forming on my face.

A small, hollow, forced smile.

Because he was there.

He was always watching.

























-------------

"Anna, you worthless piece of s***," Bennett crowed as he stumbled into the apartment, his eyes half closed and his feet unsure of themselves. I glanced at the clock. 4A.M.

"You're drunk," I informed him quietly. 4A.M. He had been with Kaitlyn the whole night, doing and saying things he would never do or say to me.

Kaitlyn. With her perfect brown hair and her perfect blue eyes. He had met her when we went out to eat a few months ago. She had been a waitress there. I should've known the minute Bennett saw her. He was stroking my leg the whole night, but his eyes weren't on me. They were on the gorgeous brunette taking orders at Table 5.

I still remembered what he said to her. How he trapped her in his cage.

"I'm not sure what you think this is," he had murmured, gesturing to himself and then to me, "but it's not exclusive, my dear."

I still remembered how she slipped a small pink sheet of paper to him with the bill, seven little digits scrawled onto it with a heart flourishing the "i" in her name.

"Hey," he snapped, finding me with his eyes. They narrowed and he advanced quickly, picking me up from the couch and hugging me close to him. "Who said you could talk?"

"Bennett," I began, trying to tug away, but his grip was iron. "Bennett, please..."

"We do what I want to do, you b****. And I want to kiss you. Now shut up." He threw me back onto the couch and leaned in close, planting a long, probing kiss on my lips. His tongue wormed its way into it and then he withdrew, smirking. He had marked his territory.

"Now that's how you kiss." He ran a hand through my long, curly blonde hair and his smirk turned genuine. "Your hair," he whispered, and something shifted in his eyes. He looked...gentle. "Oh, man. I love your hair, Anna."

"Thank you," I muttered, blushing a little. I placed my hands on his chest and he sat down next to me.

"Sit on my lap, blondie. C'mon," he insisted, winking. I smirked. He was so handsome. So strong. I did love him. And I knew why he had to have Kaitlyn. One woman could never be enough for him. Besides, she wasn't the one he really loved. He had been with me first.

I had gotten lost in my thoughts, and had therefore hesitated a moment too long. The kindness, the playfulness, that had been in his eyes disappeared."Anna!" Bennett snarled, snapping me back to reality. He wrapped his arm around my waist and dragged me closer to him. I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to fight back, but I couldn't. Bennett always won.

"Hey. You'll look at me when I talk to you."

I opened my eyes, feeling the tears cloud my vision. But he didn't notice. He never noticed.

"First you want me to stay, now you want me to leave." He shook his head. "Women. Too stupid to make up their minds, eh?"

I forced a laugh. "Bennett, you're drunk. Maybe if you were sober..."

"Oh, maybe if I was sober? Maybe?" Oh no. "I didn't realize you called the shots here." He released me and held up his hands placatingly. "I'm sorry, Miss Queen of the Universe. I guess I'll leave you alone."

I sighed. "Bennett, that's not what I meant."

"No, no," he said, shrugging. "If that's what Anna wants, that's what Anna gets."

"Bennett," I pleaded, but he ignored me, standing up and crossing his arms.

"You need to learn some manners," he said coldly. I felt myself stiffen and grow pale.

"No..." I whispered. "Bennett, please..."

"And you need to learn to make up your mind. Bennett, stay. Bennett, leave. Stay. Leave." His lip curled in a snarl. He grabbed me and forced me up again, raising his hand in that threat. In that wordless threat that made me wince before it was even fulfilled.

"Bennett!"

But it was too late. I felt his hands, his open palms and his closed fists, come down on me over and over. I slowly closed myself into a sobbing ball on the floor, vulnerable and weak, and let his words shower onto me with the same strength as his sneakers.

B****.

Slut.

Skank.

"Stupid. Worthless. Piece of s***," Bennett roared, emphasizing each word with another strike to my rib cage. "You think you deserve better than me? You're lucky to even be with me! That's where you belong, Anna. At my feet. You stupid whore."

The pain continued, each blow bringing up new tears and new wails of misery, but a sense of calm slowly washed over me.

I loved him. I deserved this. This was where I belonged. Bennett only wanted what was best for me. He was right. He was always right.

Each strike, each word and insult, was just him reminding me that he loved me. In his own way. And he was only trying to help me be the best I can be. He believed in me. He wanted me to soar. He wanted to always be with me; always be by my side.

Yes. He loved me. That was why he was doing it. So why was I crying? Why couldn't I be grateful? Why-

"Hey," he shouted suddenly, breaking off from his insults. "Are you even listening to me? Do you hear me? Look at me Anna. Look at me."

I slowly looked up and stared at him, sniffing miserably.

"Oh, God," he muttered, rolling his eyes. "Jesus, Anna. Look in a mirror once a while. You look disgusting." He kicked me. And again. And harder this time, really putting his anger into it. "Don't you realize you're a reflection of me? That when people see me with something like you, they think I'm not worth more? Dammit, Anna. You have to shape up. Maybe start working out more. Get a nose job." He gave another kick to my stomach, but somewhere in my brain, something clicked.

I stopped the tears and closed my eyes.

I told myself to stop thinking. To wait. To stop trying to rationalize the bruises and cuts that were blossoming all over my body. To stop sniveling and groveling and to remember.

To remember...





















-------------








"Anna," my mother whispered, pinning my 8 year old bangs back into a braid, "what's wrong?"

I sniffed piteously, staring at myself in the mirror.

"A big boy called me ugly today," I informed her. "And stupid. And he said other mean things, too."

"Like what kind of things?" she inquired, adjusting my curls and pushing a few of them in front of my shoulders.

"I dunno. All sorts of things. And I think maybe he was right. Because look at my nose." I pointed to the offending nasal cavity. "It's all big and crooked."

"Sweetheart, it's elegant."

"Nu- uh! It's ugly. I hate it."

"I have the same nose," she reminded me, smiling teasingly. I looked at her in the mirror and shook my head.

"No. Your nose is pretty. Mine is ugly."

"Did you ever think it was ugly before today?"

"Yes. Lots of times."

"Like when?"

"I don't know. All the time."

She stared at me in the mirror with her don't-lie-to-me face. I fidgeted uncomfortably and adverted my eyes from her penetrating gaze that carried the same strength even through the mirror.

My mother sighed and turned me around. "Sweetheart, listen to me. I think you're just agreeing to these things because you're afraid of the big boy. I think you're scared that if you don't agree with him, he'll just make fun of you more."

"Nu-uh," I muttered. She smiled a little.

She knew me too well.

"Honey, you know you're stronger than that. That big boy is just trying to manipulate you by making you afraid."

"I'm not strong," I whispered. It was hushed. I was surprised she could even hear me.

"You are strong," she insisted. "You're strong because you have someone who believes in you; somebody who loves you. You don't have to be afraid of anybody, Anna. You just have to trust in yourself. You just have to realize that as long as there are people around you who support you- who believe in you- you don't have to be scared of anything. Anna, you just have to be-"
























-------------








"Fearless," I whispered.

I remembered.

"What was that?" Bennett snapped, and I could almost hear his eyebrow raise.

I stood up, ready to jump down his throat, but he threw me off.

He started to reach for my hand, to pull me into him, to let me bury my head in his shoulder and smell his bittersweet cologne.

And part of me wanted to. Part of me wanted to just go with it, to just let myself continue to be his punching bag.To keep getting pushed down and kicked. Because it was the easy thing to do.

But there was something there, in him. Something beneath his surface.

So I made a decision.

"I'm not afraid of you, Bennett."

His face cracked, destroying the carefully constructed sweet look he had given me. "That's a load of s***. I see the way you look at me."

"I know. I was scared of you. This whole time, I've let you do and say these things to me because I thought that I deserved it. I thought that I couldn't trust myself because I would let myself down just like I'd let you down. I didn't like myself. I wasn't happy with what I was. But I know I can't weigh everything on that anymore. I only hated myself because of the things you said to me.

"But I'm done with that. And I'm done with you."

"You b****," he growled. "You're not done with me. You're not brave, Anna. You won't make it. Not without me. You need me, Anna, remember? You can't even make your own dinner. What, you think you're Superwoman all of a sudden? Yeah right. You're not 'fearless,' Anna."

And he raised his hand.

But for once, that was all I saw.

A hand.

I stared at him, a small smile forming at the corners of my mouth. "Yeah," I said, making my way for the door, "Ya know what, Bennett?

"I am."