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The Girl

Better it is her, than someone else.

By Savannah FerrellPublished 6 years ago 5 min read
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A relationship with a significant other is never what it looks like in movies. There are always hard times. Sometimes it takes “reading between the lines” to see what is actually going on behind closed doors. In public settings they might seem happy. And one of the people in the relationship might actually be happy. Thinking that the other will never run away, they will never flea. Especially since she has a ring on her finger.

But, he never stops to think, what is actually going on in her mind while he is standing two inches from her face screaming at her, spitting on her face every time another snark comes from his lips.

But why does she stay? For the girl, this is a familiar place. Being pushed, bruised, and yelled at is familiar to her. She is used to being pushed around. But this time it’s different. She tells herself that she is fine, she would rather it be her than someone else. At least she can defend herself. So instead of running, she stays. To her this is better than it being someone else. She deserves this.

Her whole life, she was the one who always took the abuse. Starting in sixth grade she would cut her wrists until all she saw was the dark red liquid that spilled from her arm. The smell of the blood was so tempting to her that she just couldn’t stop. The bullies at school had drove her to harm herself and she just wished that someone would take her away from it all. Or somehow she wouldn’t have to deal with it anymore.

The summer before high school started she thought that she could start over. But then a trusted friend took her innocence and told her “at least that was taken care of before you got to high school.” And to this day that still haunts her. Those words bit into her so hard. She went to the bathroom and took out her old trusty razor blade and cut once more into her arm. She sat on the bathroom floor in a ball, crying and screaming in pain. As the blood spilled from her arm, she slowly started to black out until she no longer saw any light. And there she lied for the rest of the night. It wasn’t until the next morning when she woke up to a burning feeling on her arm and looked down and saw her arm. Bruised and bloody from being held down and then sliced.

In high school, she was a cheerleader and top of her class, but no one knew what was going through her mind. She couldn’t get close to any boys because they terrified her. She thought none of the girls liked her because she was weird and didn’t have any “boyfriends” which meant she didn’t sleep around and go from boy to boy on the football team. She was the laughing stock of the cheer team. Until one day, she was sat next to a guy, a nice guy, someone she thought she could finally trust. They exchanged numbers and started to hangout. The first time they hung out she was very weird. She didn’t want to get too close to him, because she wasn’t yet completely sure if she could trust him. After a few weeks he finally gained her trust. She then opened her world to him. Showed him her scars. Mental and physical. He seemed to make everything right.

It wasn’t until they moved in together that everything changed. He started drinking. He started yelling. One day her world was changed, once again.

He came home yelling about work and started drinking. It wasn’t until later that night that he grabbed her by the throat and slammed her against the wall, and she had once again, blacked out. Every time he drank he would take his anger out on her. From punching her, slapping her across the face, and throwing her into the wall.

She was so embarrassed because she knew the neighbors could hear it all. But she kept thinking, 'it’s better it be me, than someone else.' But why didn’t the neighbors ever try to help? Why didn’t they ever call the police?

Then one night everything changed. He came home from work, and she told him their roommate had lost his job. This didn’t sit well, but he was quiet for a long time. He was drinking, he was mad, and she knew this wasn’t going to be good. Then he got up grabbed her and it wasn’t until then, that he saw the fresh cuts on her arm. He saw the terror in her eyes. The pain she was dealing with. For a split second she thought he was done hurting her. But she was wrong. He said if you want to cut yourself, your asking for it. He threw her into the bathtub knocking her head off the wall. She was in so much pain that she didn’t move, she just listened. She heard him go to the kitchen and grab a knife. She counted his footsteps until he got back to the side of the tub. He held the knife to her leg and looked her straight in the eyes and said “it’s my turn.” She let out a scream as he pulled the blade across her leg, one, two, three, four times. She finally passed out and then woke up to the sounds of police officers in the apartment. Finally someone was there to help her. They busted down the bathroom door and the first thing she saw was him in handcuffs. Then she saw the police officer standing above her. He gently pulled her out of the tub and laid her on the floor.

After leaving the hospital, she moved back home. She sits at home most days and does nothing. She goes to school, comes home, and sleeps. Her depression has gotten so bad that some days she wishes she wouldn’t wake up. She doesn’t have many friends. She doesn’t have anyone in her life to talk too. She doesn’t trust anyone. And why would she?

relationships
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About the Creator

Savannah Ferrell

I am a cosmetology student from Michigan. I have passion for writing and I love poetry. I am published in two poetry books from grade school. Writing was always my favorite class in high school because I have such a passion and drive for it

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