No one ever said loving someone was easy. No one who truly ever loved anybody at least. Love, contrary to popular belief is... Well it's fucking violent. At least it was for us in that moment. That blissful moment when I was drawn from deep sleep and thrust into the truth of such violence. A dreamless slumber ruptured by a strong haymaker to my upper left temple.
"You motherfucker," she yelled.
"You motherfucking piece of shit," she screamed as the onslaught continued.
I'd like to say I was present in such a way to see the beauty that fueled her anger. That I witnessed the love that hid behind the fire in her eyes. The immense care that subsisted beneath the vehemence of her scream. But in all honesty I was more consumed with the horror of that moment and the ever present fear of pissing myself uncontrollably. A horror and fear that produced shrill sounds that no grown man should ever have to make in the company of others.
"That's right scream you lil bitch boy!" She howled as her fist made contact with my right collar bone.
Yup that was it. I was a lil bitch boy. She surely wasn't wrong about that. I had been a lil bitch boy from the moment we first met and I was finally getting the ass whopping that I deserved. But even though this may sound odd given the noises I was making and the piss I was so desperately trying to contain, but I was now more in love with her than I had ever been... It was as if each strike tore away yet another layer of my cowardice. A cowardice that had kept my love buried so deep for so long.
I know it must sound terribly odd and maybe that's because it truly is, but I was in love in that moment. And even though an ass beating is an odd and kinky occasion to fall in love, it was our moment through and through. For what is love that knows not terror. And if it was so that love was her purpose and terror was her stay, I was more than willing to receive the delights of her rage.