She's The Enemy (GxG)

(P3) Chapter 4- Catharsis

I watch an emotion unknown to me flicker through the blonde's eyes as she gazes at her reflection. She is silent as the dressmaker pulls the fabric tight at her waist. At this, he turns to me.

"She has lost weight. Has she been eating?" He says sharply, his eyes piercing into mine. Truthfully, I haven't spent much time with my bride to be recently. After her recent... release of emotion, it seemed that she was less willful. She would no longer speak her opinion nor show emotion towards things she would usually. It seems that she has given up; Isla was never one to give up. The girl ahead of me bites her lip slowly, the action only being apparent to me from the mirror.

"I'm sorry..." I murmur, shifting around slightly, "Could you maybe tighten it...?" The Dressmaker looks annoyed but abides anyway, reaching for some pins to allocate the area he needed to re-stitch.

"Eat," He snaps at her as he removes the dress, placing the piece of fabric on the table to the side. Isla steps off the pedestal she had been placed upon and places her clothes on over her undershirt. I watch her in confusion: Each of her movements are laboured and sullen. She glances up at me as she leaves and even if it's only for a second, our gazes align for the first time in days. I follow her silently down the corridor before she takes sanctuary in the abnormally small parlour which is to the left of the fitting-room. She does this often- takes a book from the large bookcase on the furthest wall and reads until the sun begins to dim, only leaving when required to do so. I sit in a chair by the wall closest to the door, watching her vigilantly.

"Are you having trouble eating?" I ask softly, trailing my index finger up the arm of the chair. She looks up at me in thought, her fingers curling around the edges of the book.

"Not trouble... just... abstinence..." She lets the words drift off of her tongue slowly and almost whisper-like.

"Abstinence?" I ponder, tilting my head slightly. She places the book down in her lap slowly, glancing ahead of her at a picture on the wall.

"Have you ever loved anybody?" She murmurs. Yes.

"No." I say, keeping my tone blunt and emotionless.

"Lie." I narrow my eyebrows at her observation.

"How do you know that?" I snap at her, moving to the edge of the chair.

"Well it's true isn't it?"

"No."

"Okay."

"It isn't"

"Fine." She pulls the book back up so she can read it, "However only someone who has experienced love would argue so thoroughly about it's exsistance within himself."

Love

What an odd word. It means everything and nothing. It's the epitome of selfish and yet the very meaning of bold. It's living even through death. It's a fire that burns even in the lowest temperatures. And the first glance of this a child ever gets is when it gazes into the eyes of someone else. Someone who would give their life for the other. That's love.

***

Trigger Warning- Domestic Violence/ Abuse

(*** <This will signify the end.)

She held me while I cried. It was one of the first times she had ever done so. Most days she said she could see the devil in my eyes, other days she would do nothing but acknowledge my existence. But now, she is holding me. I'm sobbing in her arms and she is holding me. I like the feeling of her arms around me, the feeling of her heart beating against mine. I like her. And maybe... just maybe she likes me too.

Then I hear the door close and I know that this is about to end. I close my eyes tight. I don't want this to end- I don't want her to let go. However, I feel her body torn from me, the heat and adoration she radiated gone in an instant. I hear her scream. I want to help her but I'm scared. She's screaming for me to help her. She's yelling my name. My name and his. All balled up in one. Words and sentences that I can't comprehend. I hear him hit her but I do not open my eyes. I do not help.

She's still screaming, a scream that would later haunt my dreams. Then, it stops. Now she is crying and he's yelling. He's telling her not to cry. Telling her she is weak and unworthy. Telling her that she is a horrid influence on her son. Then I hear him whispering in my ear.

"Open your eyes." "Stand up." "Stop crying."

That's when I see her. She has so much fear in her eyes, so much pain. She's so broken. That scares me. I try to look away but he makes me stare. He makes me watch her suffer. I hate him. I hate him so much. I hate him for hurting her. I hate him for making her cry. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him.

I'll never be like him. Never.

***

'He really has turned you into him'

The girl's words echo through my head at the memory. Where did it all go wrong? When did I become him? However, I believe it to be the wrong question; It should be, 'Why'. Why did I let him? Why didn't I fight him?

I glance up to realise that Isla is staring at me.

"You shouldn't hate him," She mutters and it's only then in which I realise that I must have said something out loud.

"Why not?"

"Hate is far too strong an emotion to waste on someone you don't like." Our gazes align.

"I guess..." At this, I stand to leave, far too uncomfortable with the conversation to continue it. Before I leave, she speaks,

"It's okay to feel. It's okay to cry. And most of all, It's okay to break. We need that sometimes. Every now and then... we need a Catharsis." I nod slowly, her words affecting me much more than they seemed to. As I turn to leave, two words are running through my head.

A Catharsis...

A/N

I hope you enjoyed, thank you so much for reading and as always, suggestions are always welcome! Thank you again and have a wonderful day!