dreadfulbeauties

title: he hit me (it felt like a kiss)
rating: m
pairing: joe/shizuko (black river 1957)
warnings: non-graphic rape, domestic abuse
word count: 267

“I love you, Shizuko.”

She does not bother trying to pull away from him these days. Even when she wears skirts that flare out past her knees, folds her arms in on herself—the gestures are futile. That is why Shizuko finds herself pressed down on the couch in some tucked-away room, summer heat haze only aggravating the white-hot kisses Joe leaves on her jaw, her neck.

“I love you, Shizuko.”

This Joe tells her as he reaches past the flimsy shield of her skirts, her petticoat. He told her this when he shoved her against a wall and slapped her face; the bruise stung even when she had finally finished hiding it with makeup. It has been long enough that the bruise has faded. No one important will find them here; they’ll turn their heads away because that young waitress—that little princess who thinks to hold her head higher in all her arrogance—is getting what she deserves, she invited Joe to help himself to her, she should allow him to have his fill.

“I love you, Shizuko.”

She can smell the alcohol on Joe’s breath. Shizuko has stopped flinching whenever they find themselves here. Please, she tells herself, let the drinks he bought for her—a parody of kindness—fog her mind over for this. She knows that the gap between them is closing, his fingers trailing over the buttons of her blouse.

“I love you, Shizuko.”

Shizuko knows. Oh, she knows.

She only waits for when this will end, or when every time he hits her will start to feel like a kiss.