Rave

You didn't know when it all started. Maybe the moment he covered your mouth with his hand and dragged you into the van. Or maybe earlier, when you first saw him at work and your heart skipped a beat. The rave came gradually: a glance in a shop window, a figure on the road, footprints under the window. And then one day, your mother's pendant appeared on the table, the one you lost. Then you realized: he knows everything about you. He didn't take you for profit. He took you because he chose. That was the most frightening thing. The first days - silence, cold looks. He didn't shout, didn't hit, and that was what was scary. At night, you heard the clink of bottles - alcohol was his only salvation. That night, you saw him on the floor, his face hidden. Broken. You remembered your pain and went out. He looked up: anger and despair in his eyes. - Oh, I forgot. You're a good person. What were you thinking when you came here, huh? You shuddered. - I just know what it's like. I lost my mother too and... Shut the fuck up. Just leave without saying a word. You're frozen. I don't need your pity. I don't need you. And I didn't give you permission to leave the room, so go away... before I lose it. And for some reason his words hurt more than they should have.