True Rebel

"Dammit, Michael!" I screamed at my fiance, "Our wedding is tomorrow and you're sitting here, getting fucking wasted off your ass!"

Anger ran through my entire body, leaving me shaking and curling up my hands into fists. Mike glanced up at me, a drunken smile dancing across his lips.

I grabbed the bottle of whiskey out of his hands and set it on the counter. He made an attempt to grab it, but I pushed his hands away.

He pouted at me, giving me puppy dog eyes. "Vera," he whined, "Please let me finish that bottle!"

"No!" I screeched at him, "You're going to be hung over for the wedding, and that looks really fucking great, doesn't it? Our families are going to be so fucking proud!"

"Why does it even matter! Who cares what we look like? It's our life!" He grumbled at me.

"It's our WEDDING! It's a once in a life-time kind of thing and it's supposed to mean something! It's supposed to be special! Everyone worked their asses off, and now it's all going to be ruined!" I was beyond pissed. How could he do this to me?

"Well, maybe if you weren't such a fucking perfectionist, it wouldn't matter!" He yelled at me, his words slapping me in the face.

"Wouldn't matter? Holy shit, Mike, did you just say it 'wouldn't matter'? It's nice to know how you really feel!"

He rubbed his eyes, "Vera, I didn't mean that. You know I didn't mean that."

"Uh-huh, sure. Good night," I turned to walk away, trying hard to blink back my tears. I wouldn't cry in front of him. I had to be strong and brush it off.

I felt a hand grab on my wrist and twist it, causing me to gasp out in pain. I turned to look into Mike's eyes fearfully, seeing fiery anger written throughout them. His grip on my wrist tightened and I stared at him, astonished.

Mike has never laid his hands on me like this before. He's never abused me, and always treated my body with respect. I hoped this was just the alcohol controlling him. It had to be the alcohol, he's never acted like this in the three years we've been together. He wouldn't start now.

"M-Mike, stop. You're scaring me," I said through clenched teeth, my voice shaking in fear. So much for being strong.

As quickly as he became angry, he snapped out of it, and let go of my wrist. I could feel the indents his fingers left in my skin with my other hand and I winced. He pulled me into a hug, running his fingers through my hair.

"Oh God, Vera. I'm so sorry. I don't know what got into me. You were right. I'll drop the whiskey. Please forgive me baby. I didn't mean to hurt you," he kissed my forehead and I felt myself soften up under his touch. Of course he didn't want to hurt me, right?

I patted his back and he pulled away, letting me go. "Come on, let's go to bed. We have a big day tomorrow," I faked a smile at him, still fighting my ever-battling inner demons.

As we got into bed and said our good night's, I rethought over everything that just happened, analyzing it. I love him, and he loves me back, of course it was just a mistake. Humans are meant to make mistakes and learn from them, that's normal.

But why did I have this awful, gut feeling that this wouldn't be the last time something like this would happen?

No, if he didn't touch me like that when we were dating, he wouldn't hurt me when we are married. Here go my inner demons again.

I finally settled on the last thought I could muster up.

He didn't have a past with abuse, so why should he have a future with it...right?

Notes

So it's four a.m. and I can't sleep, so I decided to write this. This story is going to be longer then my other two.

Keep in mind this is all made up.
~L