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***

Beams of sunlight penetrated through the gaps of the blinds, awakening me from my restless sleep. I closed my eyes, allowing the waves to transfer warmth into the pores of my face. A bird began to chirp as he perched himself on the tree outside of Luke's bedroom window, instantly bringing me back to a peaceful time of my life. My childhood – vague, but warming memories of my young years I had spent at my grandparents home by the seaside.

My grandpa was a fond bird watcher, and from a young age he had informed me about all the different species, and calls of each bird. My grandpa and grandma have been a huge part of my life, they practically raised me considering my mother was on her own for years before she met my stepfather and they done an amazing job. I may not have had all the toys a child may have wanted, but one thing I did have was unconditional, pure love. 

From the pounding headache, to the nausea I knew I must have had way to much to drink last night. Parts of last nights were blurry, but other parts were uncomfortably clear. By the time Luke and I had strolled back to his house, the majority of the alcohol had faded away out of my system. At that point, I'd never wanted alcohol more in my life – maybe that would of put me in the mood for what was to come. The image of Luke's lustful gloomy eyes as he had sex with me, whilst I remained still and emotionless lingered in my mind, adding to the sickness. I neither wanted it, nor stopped it. I only had myself to blame.

As I rolled onto my back I began to trace the indents in the ceiling with my eyes, identically to what I had done whilst I laid in this very spot a few hours ago. Once he'd finished, he simply grunted and rolled over; instantly falling asleep as if the whole thing was normal. 

This was all new to me, not once had Luke ever wanted sex in a way for me to make up for a wrong doing and right now, I wasn't sure whether this new way of apologising was a good or a bad thing. Did it make things easier on my part? Is this better than being hit every time I do something wrong, or is this worse? 

I may not know the answers to those questions, but I knew one thing. 

I'm more broken right now, than I ever have been before. 

I feel used, disgusted and dirty.

A tear escaped down my cheek, seeping into the cotton pillow underneath me. Clouds moved in the morning sky, streaming across the pretty blue. The sun peaking through each gap between them, bringing hope and happiness to those who witnessed it today. I used to love going to the beach, sunbathing in my bikini but all I wanted to do now was lay in bed and never leave. Bed was my safe place, somewhere I couldn't do wrong. 

Unexpectedly, an arm wrapped round my waist tugging me back into a rock hard chest. 

"Good morning beautiful, how did you sleep?" Luke whispered, his raspy voice brisking across my neck. 

My stomach began to churn once again, a mixture of the alcohol and anxiety. 

"I-I slept fine." I whispered, tugging the duvet up under my chin shuffling away from his reach.

"Where are you going?" Luke asked, pulling me back towards him once again.

My heart twisted and sunk, his tone of voice suddenly raising. 

"Don't you want to have round two this morning?" He chuckled, his hand gliding up my thigh towards my naked body.

"N-N-No." 

"Why the fuck not?" Luke demanded, immediately standing up from the bed grabbing his clothes from last night.

"I'm still sore from last night, I-I just want to shower." I lied, I was sore – very sore. But showering wasn't what I wanted, I wanted to go home. 

"Don't be such a baby! You can't be that sore, it's no different to normal!" Luke smirked, making my skin crawl as he spoke proudly of his disgusting actions.

I stayed quiet, unsure of what to say or do next. Anything I could say could possibly lead to a replay of last night, or even worse. I couldn't cope with more bruises, my body was sore enough. My eyelids heavy from lack of sleep, and the silence of Luke's house only made me feel more uneasy. 

"Is this about that boy? Is this about Leo?" Luke retorted, grabbing my hand and pulling me up to face him. 

"What? No Luke! I just don't think you get it-" 

"What don't I get? My girlfriend doesn't even want to have sex with me anymore!" 

"We've had a tough time lately, you keep getting angry-"

"I have good reason to get angry Grace!" Luke shouted, stepping closer towards me.

"Luke, please-"

"Shut up." Luke roared, inching closer towards me. 

"You don't need to be like this." I whispered, searching between the two dark circles of doom.

"What the fuck do you mean by that?" Luke replied, his eyebrows furrowed.

"I mean we can get you some help-"

"I don't need any fucking help." He scowled, eyes narrowing into mine, "I need you to stop being such a frigid bitch." 

How is it possible that his words hurt sometimes more than the actual violence? I'd rather he punched me a thousand times over, than hear the harrowing words amidst his lips. Each time my insides turn tight, tears forming in the far depths of my eyelids. His words smash me to pieces, each time them becoming impossible to put together again. 

Eventually, the pain becomes familiar and in time you feel numb. Numb to all the hatred, spitefulness and pain. And when that happens you find yourself waking up each morning, wondering why... why am I still alive? You feel dead inside, dark and empty. As if nothing, or nobody matters around you any more. Giving up feels like the easy route out, but in reality – it would be the route of heartache for everyone around me.

Luke's fingers brushed across my neck, tucking a few strands of my knotted brown behind my lobe. 

I gulped, I was afraid of him. Afraid of his touch.

Avoiding all eye contact, I scanned the room. Luke's bedroom was plain, simple yet neat. Nothing was ever messy, nor would I ever allow it to be. He liked everything perfect. His double bed was against the dark blue wall at the back, along with a mahogany desk and white chair. His clothes were neatly packed away in his wardrobe, each item having it's own space and all organised in a methodical manner. I'd witnessed Luke rant at his mother time and time again, about how she had placed items of clothing in the incorrect place. My eyes fixated on my underwear that had been chucked in the far corner of the room last night, along with my dignity.

I couldn't be here anymore, not here in this room. Last night was enough to break any pieces left that were still complete, I didn't know who he was anymore. Maybe I hadn't known who he was for a long time, but his actions after the party was the icing on the cake. Part of me wanted to believe he was to drunk to realise it wasn't what I wanted, but then the little voice inside my head was telling me he knew, but didn't care.

"I need to go home." I whispered, before grabbing my bags and clothes and bolting out the room, down the stairs towards the front door.

I ran as fast as I could, letting the brisk morning air brush against my cheeks. For once in my life I felt like I was in control of me, of my movements, of my life. 'd missed that.

Luke had taken everything away that was once mine. The ability for me to make my own decisions, to make friends or to keep them, to socialise and to choose what to wear each morning. Each outfit I picked out of my wardrobe had to be something I knew he'd approve of before I could allow myself to wear it out of the house, I missed wearing my summer skirts and dresses. But then again, even if I was allowed to wear it - I couldn't anyway because of the bruises that constantly marked my porcelain skin.

I missed my old life, the old Grace. The teenager who was happy, and the life and soul of the party. Smiles and laughter were my daily dose of medicine, but now painkillers was about the only medicine I had each day to feel better about myself.

The old Grace would've had the nuts to stand up to him, to beat him back but then again that would've just made me a coward just like him. Laying a hand on him has never once crossed my mind, and I couldn't help but wonder if before this all happened was abusing me something he'd ever thought of doing?

The Grace who I once knew was long gone.

Two years I had wasted feeling worthless, two whole years I had spent constantly trying to figure out where I had gone wrong - if I deserved this, or if he was just pure evil.

Luke had discovered all the good parts of me and then proceeded to tear them apart bit by bit. I sometimes wonder if they can be fixed, if I could be fixed. Once a plate is smashed on the ground, and you glue all those tiny pieces back together - it never looks the same, no matter how hard you try. The cracks are still there, presentable to those who admire it.

The old Grace may never come back, and that thought scared me more than anything Luke has ever done.

***

A/N:
Hope you enjoyed this chapter learning more about how Grace is feeling and more in depth about her and Luke's relationship.
- Do you think Grace can ever be fixed?
- Which character do you want to see more of?

Please remember: if you are in a situation similar to Grace, reach out and get help. Speak to somebody, you are not alone. Speak to an adult, family member, teacher/co-worker or just a friend. You do not have to suffer in silence.