Romance

He pushes me against the wall, and his lips are attached to my neck. I hate this feeling. He has to grab my legs and wrap them around his waist. I used to do this all on my own. He has to force me to say I love you. I don’t. I hate him. I hate him for making me do this. I hate myself for never mustering up the strength to pack my things and leave.

He carries me to the bedroom and forcefully drops me onto the bed.

“Lark, tell me you love me,” he growls as he nips my ear, thinking he sounds sexy. I’m scared of him. I don’t know where my next words come from.

“No, Cain.” He retracts, surprising me, until his hand is drawn back and he smacks me across the face, a bright red handprint already forming on my pale, freckled cheek.

“What did you say?” he asks, his eyes, ones I used to melt in now stone-hard, narrowing into slits.

”No, I reply, this time, with more strength in my voice. Cain punched me. My cheek was soon to be both red and bruised. Black and blue. But I don’t feel anything anymore. His hand wraps itself around my throat. This must be how mice feel when they are preyed on by snakes. I feel a choking sensation. Breathe, breathe, breathe, my brain is telling my body, but I can’t. Cain is killing me.

“I said,” Cain growls even louder, ripping his hands from my throat. I gasp as my hands find themselves at my own throat, trying to comfort the raw and aching skin. “What did you say?”

“I love you!” I manage to gasp out, and Cain smiles with self-satisfaction. I have given in once more.

“That’s not all of it,” Cain says, smirking. I don’t want to die, so I comply. “I love you, Cain Haynes.” Just like that, a lie is out of my mouth again. A slow smirk creeps its way onto Cain’s red, ballooning lips. I hate him.



The sound of metal grating against metal is all I hear as Cain zips up his jeans, feeling successful. I do not feel successful. I am lying on the bed, unmoving, feeling dead as ever. I would have never thought Cain to be like this eight months ago. I want to cry, but my eyes do not water. I do not move.

“I’ll call you later,” Cain says as he throws his jacket on and leaves my apartment.

I.
Want.
To.
Cry.

So I go to the one place I can think of: Colton’s. Colton, Cain’s brother, is nothing like Cain. Colton is sweet. Colton is caring. Colton is kind. Colton is my best friend. I can’t say any of those things to describe Cain, but I can say that I once used those words to describe him. Once upon a long, happy time. I stumble all the way to Colton’s apartment because Cain took my car. Again. I hate him. But I still hold onto the hope that we still have a little bit of romance left in our relationship, a little sliver of chivalry and kindness, even though deep down, I know those feelings died out months ago.

I barely have the strength to knock on Colton’s door. As I wait for him to open it, I slide down the wall, asking myself what I did to deserve such a terrible thing. Colton doesn’t open the door. I knock once more, maybe he didn’t hear it? After five minutes of waiting, I knock one last time. Colton opens the door, clad in a fresh, grey tank top and dark jeans. His hair is damp. He must have been showering. Colton doesn’t see me until I wince in pain.

“Lark! Oh my god, what happened?” he exclaims, and picks me up and wounds my arms around his neck. He lays me down on the couch, and before I can manage any words out, I burst into tears. I don’t know how long I cry for, but Colton is there, unmoving, warm, and kind, comforting me with ever tear. After what feels like forever, my sobs die down into quiet sniffs, but I’m still not ready to talk.

“C—Can I stay with you?” I ask him, because I know Cain will be back later.

“Yeah, Lark,” he says quietly. “Of course you can.” And I smile and fall asleep, my head in his lap, dreaming of romance and chivalry and kindness.



When I wake, I am lying on Colton’s bed with one of his t-shirts and basketball shorts on, his room simple and clean. I look for my phone, because Colton is nowhere to be found. I find it on his bedside table, but I have no new texts and no missed calls. Something is wrong. Cain is very possessive and always wants to know where I am at every hour, plus, I was not in my apartment last night. I check my message box and find that Cain did send me text messages, about twelve of them, but they have already been opened. No.

I quickly run out into the kitchen and call for Colton. No response. I run down the stairs and to the lobby because the elevator will be too slow. When I get to the lobby, I ask the receptionist if Colton left already. She nods, and I panic. If my text messages from Cain have already been opened and Colton is out the door on the one day he doesn’t have work, I think the worst. Colton read my messages and went to Cain’s.

I hail a taxi and jump in quickly, telling the drive Cain’s address and to step on it. By the time I get there, I rush up to Cain’s apartment and knock furiously on the door. There is no answer, but I hear things crashing. I knock even harder and even more, just waiting, hoping for someone to open the door and tell me that everything’s okay, no one has been fighting.

“What the fuck did you do to her?” I hear an angry voice. Colton.

“I don’t know what the fuck yo—you’re talking about,” Cain slurs in response. I hear another crash. “The fuck was that for?” Colton must have shoved Cain into something.

“What did you do to Lark,” Colton says slowly and quietly—I can barely hear it—and I know this isn’t a good thing. Colton is trying to bottle up all his anger and all his feelings, and then he’ll release it hours later, but on himself. He’ll blame himself for whatever happened. He’ll think of himself as good for nothing. He’ll be emotionally hurting himself, and I can’t stand to see Colton like that when it happens, so I bring a fist up to the door and pound as hard as I can. The scuffle stops, and I hear the door open.

“Lark, this is not a good time,” Colton says, his face red and angry.

“No, Colton, and you know that perfectly well. You could kill Cain if you lost control,” I say in the strongest voice I can manage, which turns out to be somewhat weak.

“Why do you defend the guy who beats you every time you don’t do what he says? You don’t love him, Lark, he forces you to do things you don’t want to do. He ignores you when he doesn’t want anything from you and the worst part is that you’re okay with it.” Colton says, and I am near tears because it really is true. Everything Colton has said is true. “Why do you love someone, or say you love someone, who’s a monster?” His voice is quiet now, hushed to a whisper.

“Colton, he’s your brother,” I respond equally as quiet, not looking into his eyes.

“No,” Colton says, shaking his head. “That is not my brother,” he says while pointing at the groaning figure against the couch. “My brother is caring. My brother doesn’t get drunk every night. My brother doesn’t beat up his girlfriends to get what he wants. I don’t know who that is anymore.” With that, Colton opens the door and leaves for his own apartment, his expression weary and tired. I looked back at Cain and without a second though, I followed Colton out the door.



“Colton! Colton, open up!” I say as a wave of déjà vu hits me. I was here in the afternoon. Colton opens the door after a moment, and hand running through his hair. I walk in silently and he leads me to his room.

“Lark…” he starts. “I just don’t get it. Why?” So I tell him the complete truth.

“I hold onto the hope that we still have romance,” I admit to Colton, feeling a weight lift off my shoulders. “I keep thinking that maybe if I wait just a little longer, he’ll be the Cain I fell in love with,” Colton gives me the hard truth, something I love about him. He never lies to me.

“You and Cain don’t have romance, Lark,” Colton breaks it to me, breaking my heart in the process. I never had the strength to admit that to myself, so I’m thankful Colton does it. “You haven’t had romance in a really long time. Romance isn’t sex, much less forced sex.” Colton gets up and pulls me off his bed as well, and turns on his speakers. Sparks by Coldplay is playing, my favorite song. Colton knows all the lyrics. “Romance is when someone you like walks into the room and they take your breath away,” he says, and then takes in a deep breath, making a big deal out of it. “Romance is when two people are slow dancing and they just fit together perfectly,” with that said, Colton twirls me around, and I wonder if I had romance with Colton this whole time instead of Cain. We stop dancing but the music still plays, and we are holding hands. “Romance is when two people are walking down a street and all of a sudden, they’re holding hands, and they don’t know how they got to be like that.” When Colton says that in the quiet voice that I love, my theory has been confirmed. I never had romance with Cain, and I never will. It’s been with Colton all along. So when Colton leans in, I don’t hesitate to do the same, and we are holding hands and kissing in the dark, romance ever present.