***** TRIGGER WARNING CONTAINS ABUSE AND DEATH. CONTAINS MENTION OF RAPE AND ABUSE *****

Everything hurts. I'm broken. I'm completely lost in this world. I'm alone. But I'm not alone. I can make it. Just a little further. I see the light.

The light has always really been there, but I've always been too far away to reach it. It was closer when I was young. When I started dating Emily, it slowly got further away from me. But it must've been because I was happy, and I didn't need the light. I was happy with Emily. I was, I swore it.

Sometimes, I would go into our room. So many memories were there. I would rub my wrists, remembering the feeling of the ropes she had tied onto me. She said it was fine. I didn't know if it was. Then, it happened. Something I swore never to talk about. That memory... It scared me.

And yet, everyday, I still feel hurt. I feel violated. The tears threaten to come, but I don't let them. I'm a man. I can't cry. That's what society says, though.

But the way she touched me. She hurt me. I'm still broken. I'm still hurt. I know the bruises still litter my arms and shoulders. I know they're scattered down my legs. I know their purple color stains my torso. Emily tells me I'm weak. She yells. She tells me to fight back. She hits me. She slaps me. She beats me.

Isn't that just an empowered woman? That's what society tells me. She hits me because she's powerful. She knows where she needs to stand. I am weak.

If I was strong, I would fight back. So, I am weak. But I've been told, that if I hit a girl, I'm abusing her. I'm not an abuser. I would never hit anyone. My mother always said that I was gentle. She said she liked that. My father hated it. He called me weak.

Then he was taken away. My mother had always been rather fragile. I didn't realize that my father was abusive. I never knew. But he was. He went to jail.

I know the truth. I know that Emily is abusing me. But I'm afraid. I'm afraid that if I tell anyone, that they'll call me weak just like Emily did. They'll say that I should have just fought back. Emily will still be my girlfriend. I'll be weak, just like I already am.

So I am quiet. I need to stay quiet. Emily said that if I speak, that she'll only make it worse. She'll make the pain worse.

I'm scared...

But her attention. It's valuable. Her attention is unlike anything. I get more attention in this relationship than in any other. I hate it. But I love it. The pain I feel.. I can't describe it. I hate it. I really hate it. But I need it. I crave it.

I need to escape. I have to escape.

Emily always talks about me and her. She says we're perfect. She says that she's changing. She says that. She always says she never wants me to leave her. I don't want to leave her. I'm a coward. I can't leave her.

I like to try and convince myself that I'm doing it for others. I like to say that I'm protecting other people out there. I don't want Emily to hurt them like she hurt me. I want them to be safe.

But deep down, I know that I'm just too cowardly to leave her. I am afraid that no one will believe me. I'm afraid they'll say I just hit myself. I used to have friends. But Emily said that the only thing I needed was our relationship. When I suggested I keep my friends, she hit me. I broke a rib that night. She made sure I knew that I was only hers.

I know that tomorrow I have to see my mother. I know that tomorrow I have to talk to her. I know Emily will be there, clinging onto my every word. If I tell my mother anything, she'll kill me. Or worse, she'll kill my mother.

Tomorrow will come eventually. I might as well make it come faster by sleeping.

--

The loud sound of Emily's alarm clock was what woke me up. I could hear it over everything. I knew she was next to me. She was naked. I know what she wanted. But I knew I had to stay away from her. I couldn't do anything with her. It brought back painful memories.

Her alarm clock continued to go off, but I stayed put. If I left, she might hurt me. She might hit me. She might yell. She might do what she did again. I know she keeps that rope in her drawer. I know exactly where it is. I know that she could do it to me any day. I'm grateful she hasn't.

She opens her eyes, and I feel like I can see no emotion in them. They're just like a cold rock. They don't carry emotion. They are constantly open, wide awake, prepared for everything. She yawns and stretches. I flinch, hoping she didn't notice.

"Good morning, Sweetie Pie." She coos, hugging against me.

"H-hi Emil-Emily." I stutter. "Are you ready? My mom wants us at her house by 10. We should leave in an hour or so."

"Okay. Stand against the wall though. Just for me?" She requests, smiling brightly.

I flinch, stepping out of bed, painfully aware of the fact that I wore nothing more than shorts and underwear. My bruises splattered my arms and chest, scattering their way down my legs, turning them a dark blue color. I watch as she walks to my closet, pulling out a leather belt. I curse silently, thinking I had hid them all.

"Tsk tsk tsk... Trying to hide your belts? I'll find them, Luke. You can't hide them." She growled, biting her lip, her eyes narrowing into a glare.

Emily walked over, a robe wrapped around her petite figure, a dark expression in her eyes.

"So, Mr Tough Guy. Are you ready?" She murmured into my ear. I shuddered, trying not to cry. "Or are you too much of a wimp?!"

With the last word, the belt slapped down across my bare chest, exploding it into agony. I remember crying out in pain, a tear slipping from my eye. The rest was a blur. I felt the belt hit my skin, her cruel grin. I remember her cold, blue eyes, staring through me. I remember pain.

That's all I felt. Pain. Darkness. It was dark. I was scared. She took me, dragging me into the kitchen, shoving me into the table, forcibly pushing me into a chair. I was too tired to retaliate. I remember her making me toast. I ate it. She sat on my lap, her arm resting on me. I was scared right then. I was terrified. But I didn't do anything. I didn't want to feel the painful lash of that belt against my skin.

The rest of the morning passed by in a blur. I put on my suit, and we entered her car. We drove the freeway, exiting to my mother's house. We went into her house, and I could immediately smell her wonderful cooking. I hugged her gently, she doing the same. I kept a straight face, resisting the temptation to tell my mother everything. It was bad of me, wanting to say anything. I didn't want to hurt Emily.

"So, Ms. Frealo, how are you? Like and I are just fine!" Emily's squeaky blue stabbed through my tangled web of thoughts. "Isn't that right, Honey Bunches?"

"Y-yeah! We're great!" I lied, licking my lips. "We couldn't be better!"

We sat down at the table. Emily excused herself. She left to the bathroom. Or so I thought. I knew that this was the only chance I had to tell my mother. So I took it.

"Mom... I need to tell you something. Something important. Please.. Please Believe me." I swallowed my fear, biting my lip nervously. "Emily.. Emily violated me. She hurt me. She still does. She- she r-raped me..."

Her expression at that moment was indescribable. I saw hurt. Fear. Anger. Confusion. But the most painful thing I saw in her dark-lined eyes was uncertainty. She didn't believe me. I thought that of all the people who would believe me, the woman who had raised me would. But she didn't. I could tell. And that disbelief crashed down on me like a waterfall, cascading off cliffsides. I would rather have Emily hit me, than to see that disbelief.

"you- you don't believe me!" I accused, a tear sliding down my face. "After everything! After dad hurt you! I thought that you would be the one to believe me."

"No! Luke. I love you. Don't ever think for a moment that I wouldn't believe you! I'm scared for you. Why wouldn't you leave her? Why?! It she hurt you, tell the police!" My mother told me. "Run, Luke. Just run. Take my keys. Run."

Tears streaked my pale skin, my eyes sunken, filled with terror and regret. I saw the car keys. They dangled, knocking into each other. My one path to escape. And there they were. Dangling in front of my face. I shook my head, as hard as it was. I turned it side to side. Though I could see my mother's face and her keys, there was something I didn't. I didn't hear it, let alone see it. I couldn't have saved anyone that night.

Emily suddenly stood behind my mother, an angry expression on her face, her cold blue eyes glinting murderously. She held her car keys to my mother's neck, who looked at me, terror in her matching brown eyes. She cried out as Emily pushed the keys to her throat. I only sat there, stunned into paralysis. I wanted to cry. I wanted to hurt Emily. She was hurting the one good thing in my life. But I couldn't bring myself to do it. It was too hard...

It was my fault that happened. All my fault. Emily told me so, too.

"I swear to God, if you move, Luke, she's dead. I'll slit her throat. Right here. You betrayed me!" She growled, her unwrinkled face turning ugly. "You told her, after you said you wouldn't. I'll kill her if you move."

"Take the keys and run, Lu-" my mother's voice was cut off by Emily's grip tightening around her neck. Her eyes bulged. Terror reigned in them, dancing through their darkest depths, even through the bright areas. Nothing could conquer terror.

"You move. She dies. Don't move, or I'll kill her. I swear I will." She threatened.

So, I didn't move. I sat still. Still, it happened. When I let myself go, Emily did it. She swiped the keys across my mother's throat.

All I remember was pain and blood.

This One-Shot is meant to serve an important purpose. Please help to spread the word that abuse against males happens. This is a serious problem that happens.