If love no longer loves,
It is better to let it go.

.\.|./.

Crystal Monroe

| in which she fights back |

I have never felt more torn in my life.

Not when I left my parents for Jem, not when I ditched my friends for him, not even when I walked away from a college admission. It didn't bother me when I slowly changed everything about myself, from my hair to my wardrobe, from my style to my likes and dislikes.

But walking away from Ryan ... this is the hardest thing I've ever done.

It tears me apart to do it, as if I'm leaving a part of my soul behind. Somehow Ryan has grown attached to me. However, Jem is like a tumor, cancerous and deadly, always coming back no matter how many times he's removed.

The minute I saw him glance at Ryan's crutches before lowering his gaze to his legs, I knew Jem had made the connection. The smile on his face was enough to tell me what was running through his mind. Jeremy is only this sweet when he knows he can win. If he isn't sure of victory, he doesn't even compete.

He was ready to challenge Ryan because he could see he could win.

The minute we enter our house, I slip my hand out of his. He doesn't resist, closing the door behind us before turning to me in the living room, flicking on the lights.

"What were you doing at his house in the middle of the night?" he demands as soon as we're alone, dropping all pretense.

Typical Jem.

"There were people here," I say truthfully. "We ... I was getting work done."

Jeremy doesn't buy it, clearly noticing my use of 'we' before I changed my phrase. Somehow, Jeremy's gaze always brings the truth out of my mouth. His ice scares me, for no amount of begging can melt him when he's mad.

"I left you in this house, Cris, and this is where I expect to find you when I come back," he says, hands curling into fists.

This is always what happens. He can be gone for as long as he wants, but he always expects me to be his loyal Cris when he gets back. I feel the bitter truth on my tongue but hold it back, knowing it would really lead nowhere. I need Jeremy to stay calm if I want to have a proper discussion with him.

"Where have you been, Jem?" I ask. "Do you know how long it's been?"

"Long enough for you to find a fuck-buddy obviously," is his answer.

Bile rises up my throat but I swallow it down, my breathing coming shallow.

"How long has this been going on?" he asks.

"There's nothing going on," I lie, hoping he would buy it. Telling Jeremy about kissing Ryan isn't something that will help my case.

"You're so gullible, Cris," he says, his voice growing softer by the minute. "He was only smooth talking you for the sex, you know that."

He takes a step towards me and I take a step back, putting distance between us.

"Why else would he want to be with you?" Jem goes on, coming closer as he speaks. "What could he possibly see in you? The only good thing about you is your body, you know that's what everyone at school thought."

I swallow, lowering my gaze and unable to meet his. His words are smooth and stinging, sneaking into my skin and leaving bruises everywhere they pass.

"The only reason you were on the cheer squad," he says. "The only reason people talked to you or let you hang out with them. You know the things they said about you behind your back, I told you everything, Cris. It hurts me, babe."

My back hits the wall and Jeremy stops a mere half-foot from me, placing his hands on the wall on both sides of my head. I wince as he draws closer, seeing the fire in his eyes.

"You know that's the only thing he sees too," he coos, his gaze dropping to my lips so that I lick them instinctively. "Your fucking hot body."

"That's not true." The words slip out before I can stop them, and I blink at my own impulsiveness.

"What?" Jeremy breathes, his eyes meeting mine again.

To think I loved this man.

To think a part of me still loves this man.

"He ... that's not what he wants," I repeat, plucking up my remaining courage and hoping it'll be enough. "He says he likes that I'm ... smart and kind and --"

Jeremy starts laughing, a cruel sound that echoes in the silence of our house.

"You? Smart?" He laughs. "You're just a dumb-blonde, babe. A sexy cheer-leader with the skill of moving her body. That's what he sees in you. And that ..." he leans in, his lips at my neck. "Is what I love about you."

He kisses my neck and I shiver at his touch.

"That's not true," I say, my voice breaking. "You ... you're only saying that to --"

"To what?" Jeremy mumbles against my skin, and I want to push him away. "To get you to fuck me again? You know I don't need to do that, Cris. You're mine, babe."

"I'm not," I say before I can stop myself. "I don't belong to you, Jeremy, I'm not your puppet."

Ryan's words leave my lips and the fact doesn't escape Jeremy's notice. His eyes grow colder, pupils constricting into slits as his nostrils flare.

"You've been fucking him, haven't you?" he accuses.

"For God's sake, Jeremy," I blurt out, trying to duck out from under him.

He traps me tighter until I feel his body pressed against mine. One of his hands comes to grab my chin, his nails digging into my cheeks.

"Prove it then," he spits at me, his lips on mine before I can stop it.

This isn't the first time he has forced me to do something, but his kiss has never disgusted me this way before. All of a sudden, I feel disgraced, humiliated and used, and everything Ryan ever said to me makes sense. Jeremy doesn't love me. All he wants is control, over my mind, over my body, over my life. That's the only thing that matters to me.

Tears sting my eyes, but this is not the time to cry. This is the time to fight and stand up for myself, exactly what Ryan wanted to do for me when I walked away from him.

I struggle to push Jeremy away from me, but it doesn't work, until my palm collides with his face. Caught off guard, Jeremy pulls back just a couple of inches, giving me space to breathe and take in the mixture of shock and rage on his face.

"You can't do that, Jem," I snap at him, breathless but firm for the first time against him. "You can't be gone for months and just show up and --"

He grabs my face again, silencing me with a jerk. I wince at his touch, my heart jumping into my throat.

"You dare fucking hit me?" he growls at me, words rolling out from between his teeth.

"Stop, you're hurting me," I say, hoping he would listen for once.

"You cheated on me?"

"No, I --"

"You bitch!"

He doesn't care about the tears in my eyes, nor that his nails are drawing blood. All he cares about is control.

"You little whore," he hisses, and I just can't take it anymore. 

My hand curls into a fist, and it's by a will of its own that it collides with Jeremy's jaw. He stumbles back, his hands flying to his face when he nearly trips over his own feet.

Taking advantage of the opportunity, I look around, desperately searching for something I can defend myself with. I grab hold of an antique vase from the table close by, one I had recently considered selling for how much it would be worth. That was before Ryan jumped to my aid, deceitfully buying me groceries so I wouldn't starve to death.

I don't get to use the vase though, because Jeremy's hands are at me before I can even straighten up. One of his hands wrap in my hair, while the other reaches for my arm, taking hold of it and twisting it until I cry out and drop the vase with a clang.

"You fucking bitch," Jeremy spits at me, blood spluttering out of his mouth. The sight is disgusting, but kind of reinvigorating. The realization that I, for once, hurt him like he hurts me is enough to make the ripping pain in my scalp worth it.

The sick pleasure vanishes as soon as his hand lets go of my arm and comes to my throat, strangling me so that my wind supply is cut off. I reach up, sputtering and gagging, clawing at the flesh of his arms to make him let go. He doesn't, and he slams me back against the wall.

Breathless and aching all over, I slide down to my hands and knees, falling to a rag at his feet.

Like always.

"Stop --" I breathe, not wanting to beg him this time. My voice comes out hoarse, and I'm tired of pleading, tired of always apologizing even when I'm not wrong, tired of giving in to him when I know all he wants to do is break me down and stand over my pieces, laughing at the power he has over me.

He grabs my hair again, dragging me towards the room. I scream, trying to free myself, while he spits curses at me and hits me when I refuse to comply. Neither my pain, nor the tears running down my face can stop him, as he drags me to what used to be our room. He throws me across the floor, until my entire body lies there, drained of energy and hurting everywhere.

"You know what you remind me of?" he pants, staring down at me as he begins to pull off his shirt. "Condoms. The only thing they're good for is to be used and thrown away. Not kept in homes and shown off to people."

Disgust fills me and I almost throw up, not only at his use of the vulgar analogy, but also at the thought of what I have reduced myself to. This is the man I loved? This is the man I gave up my life for? My family, my future? This is the man I gave myself up for?

He thinks of nothing when he grabs me by the hair once again, jerking me into a standing position before tossing me onto the bed. I pant, each breath setting my lungs on fire. My brain tells me to run, to fight, and to retaliate, but my body simply doesn't have the energy.

So even as he grabs me again to finally break me up, I can hardly do anything to stop him.

Until ...

I elbow him in the face and make my last daring attempt at escape.

Last, because he won't have it anymore.

Last, because the last thing I hear is his loud curse as he pushes me off the bed in rage.

Last, because I feel my head hit against something hard, see a splash of blood, and fade into darkness.

I fade into nothing.

Feeling like nothing.

.\.|./.

A/N: Sorry, guys. Did you expect it to get this bad?

What do you expect next?