@opticallyenhanced | E: Trick Or Retreat
WARNING: DOMESTIC ABUSE / ALCOHOLISM
SHE never claimed her husband to be an entirely good person. She believed he’d tried, really tried, and with enough of her love and support, he could become something better. Hard to buy when all he did was drink and disappear for hours or even days, but oh did she try. Poor little Hannah Wright. So love struck for Luke Wright that she couldn’t even begin to question how horrifying it was that he’d showed up at her doorstep, smile and all. In her tired state, she glanced at the clock, though no less ecstatic that her husband had finally come. Finally after weeks of being alone. He was here, and his voice, soft, loving, all what she remembered it to be.
Poor little Hannah Wright. Unknowingly letting something into her apartment and quietly fixing what she thought was her husband some tea. His favorite. Nothing less for him, even if his tone had shifted to bitterness after closing the door.
Poor little Hannah Wright. Confused, startled, questioning as he mutters something and goes rooting through the drawers while her back was turned. She assumed-- it’s a spoon he’s grabbing. He’ll need it for the tea. Easy to believe until their conversation turned for the worst.
When she started to smell alcohol and found herself staring at her husband standing near the doorway nearly in a drunken stupor. His words cutting, quick, harsh. No hesitations to cut her down and leave every wound open for him to jab more fingers into. Even when she tried to fight back, things were thrown. A reminder of what was common when Luke drank himself stupid. Where’d he even get the alcohol was beyond her, but it was the knife. The threats and bruises that now littered her arms that had her remembering just what happened minutes before her arrival.
“ You should have stayed dead, Hannah. ”
It was his last words before he rushed with the knife. Before she managed to strike him down with the hot kettle and rush out of her apartment. Before she found herself barely breathing and clinging to this man she barely liked for support.
There’s no hiding this from him. From the fact she’d ran out in slippers and a nightgown with bruises and one bleeding cut, there was no way she could have played it off as an accident. Nor could she find the strength to lie. Her words had barely come out, shaken and weak as her eyes found themselves incapable of facing him.
“ Please hide me. Please. I’ll do anything, just please--I need to hide-- ”