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You recoil in horror as Rushia lets out a pained gasp, staggering away from you and crashing into the wall, crumpling to the ground in a heap. Your head aches, ears filled with ringing and rushing water as you pant. Dumbfounded, the adrenaline pumping through your veins diminishes as you stare at your extended fist. It's shaking. Your entire arm is shaking. No, more than that, all of you shivers like a leaf in the wind. Oh god. You didn't. Realization creeps its way down your spine as your blood is replaced with ice water, heart rising into your throat. You hit Rushia. Something twists in your stomach as you gag, feeling incredibly ill as the thoughts flood into your mind to be processed. You hit her. You hit your girlfriend. You had an argument with her and you fucking punched her. Your chest tightens, breathing rapidly becoming strained. Rushia twitches against the ground, the impact of her head having left a visible dent in the dry wall. Oh, fuck. Fuck! What the fuck is wrong with you?! Fuck, fuck. Your relationship- no, fuck that, your *LIFE* is over! If Rushia doesn't fucking kill you with whatever necromancer nonsense she feels like cursing you with as soon as she gets up, as soon as the news gets out that she's been struck, you're the prime suspect. The only suspect. The evidence is literally on her face.
How did you fucking let this happen? How could you lose control like that? Rushia's been a handful lately, but is this really the way you chose to handle it? Domestic abuse? Staring at the small girl, semi-consciously groaning in agony as she coughs on the floor, your mind races. Why? Why this? Why hit her?
Rushia's been a handful lately. The thought repeats itself as you try to calm down, pacing back and forth, both of your hands grasping at the edges of your hair as you hyperventilate. It's an understatement. You've barely been dating for two months, yet the girl is unhealthily obsessed with you. You thought it was cute, at first, the way she would cling to your arm, follow you everywhere. You thought it was all just an act, an endearing thing she would do. A trope. Something for the stream. No one could *actually* be like that, you foolishly thought. Idiot. Fucking idiot. You weren't prepared for it to be *real*. You couldn't contain it. You couldn't attempt to contain it. Rushia was crafty. Rushia was resourceful. Resilient. Slowly, she worked to push you away from others. You know it was her. Coworkers refused to talk to you anymore, looking at you with a mix of emotions ranging from disgust to fear. Family members saying they were being threatened, coincidentally lining up with outings with them. She was trying to ruin your fucking life. You got into an argument with her. You confronted her, and she just laughed. She laughed and laughed and laughed and--
Anger flares up within you once more, but Rushia's miserable mewling quickly snaps you back out of it. Terrified, you finally urge your faculties to work together, taking a step forward towards her. She's curled upon herself, almost in a ball. Rushia spits blood onto the ground as she writhes, tears pouring from her eyes. When she spots your movement, she stops, lying on the ground and casting a sidelong glance in your direction. She regards you coldly, freezing you in place.
"Rushia," you all but yelp, voice cracking. Dizziness grasps you. What do you fucking say here? "I-I'm...please, I didn't mean to-"
"To strike me?" Rushia responds bluntly. With a great deal of effort, the thin girl on the ground manages to correct herself, sitting on the floor before you. She lets out a low chuckle. "You did. I saw it in your eyes. That anger. That...hatred. You were like a wild beast."
Rushia's lips curl into a smile, blood seeping through her teeth. Oh, Jesus, please no. Shakily, she stands, incoherently stumbling towards you. Each step nearly sends her careening off balance. Concussion, maybe. Fucking DAMN IT YOU PIECE OF
"It felt good, didn't it?" Rushia asks, nearly tripping into you as she closes the gap. She looks up to you, cheek swollen and red. "Do you want to do it more? It's okay."
How fucking hard did you hit her? "No, God, of course I-"
"I'll endure it for you. It's okay. It makes you happy, doesn't it?" Rushia continues. Your heart pounds out of your chest as she reaches down, softly clutching the hand you struck her with in her grasp. It's almost insultingly gentle for what you did to her. She runs her thumbs over your knuckles, looking up to you...amorously. The urge to vomit reveals itself once more. "You can do that with me...if it makes you feel better. Because I love you. It's okay. It's okay."
