Love Don't Have to Hurt

by Lucinda John

  I would tear up at the sad parts, smile at the sweet parts, and even laugh when things got silly. Those were the days I missed. The days he would come home with yellow roses and boxes of chocolate. The days we would sit and watch the sunset while he greased my scalp. The days we would sit up all night and FaceTime when he was away on business. I missed my old husband and I was determined to get him back.

  “Get up and get dressed,” Lucas said, scaring me out of my skin.

  He looked so sexy dressed in a pair of black jeans, a red Polo shirt and a pair of red, black, and white Jordan’s. His waves were on swim, displaying that he’d just gotten a haircut. Just the sight of him earned my forgiveness.

  Slowly getting up, I made sure I cleaned my mess before going to the bathroom to wash up. Lucas looked as if he was in a good mood, so I didn’t want to do anything to ruin it.

  He sat on the edge of the bed and watched me as I got dressed. I purposely dropped items on the floor, seductively picking them up. With every step I took, I made sure my ass jiggled in the thong I wore. As I was rummaging through the closet for something to wear, I felt a pair of hands wrap around my waist. Smiling, I cocked my head to the side so he could kiss my neck.

  “Are you going to be a good girl for daddy and behave?” he asked, slipping two fingers in my awaiting pussy.

  “Yes,” I moaned, wiggling out of my drawls and opening my legs.

  I stood on my tiptoes, with my other foot high in the air, while I gave him access to my cookie jar. I was so long overdue that foreplay at the moment wasn’t needed. As he slid in and out of me, I felt myself ascend to heaven. The feeling that I was feeling was one only my husband could bring. With every stroke, I fell deeper in love with him. I wasn’t sure what he applied to the tip of his dick before sliding his dick in me, but whatever it was had my head gone. I was definitely in this for better or for worse.

  “Hurry up and clean up,” Lucas said after busting his third nut.

  I was feeling a little shaken, but I still managed to re-wash Ms. Kitty and get dressed. Matching his fly wardrobe, I wore a red high-low dress with a pair of black sandals. I pulled my hair into a ponytail and placed my diamond studs in my ear.

  When I walked outside, Lucas was on the phone. He rushed the caller off the phone, then walked over to the passenger’s side to open my door for me. Once I was seated, he got in the driver’s side and drove to our destination in silence.

  We arrived at a big, red brick building that was located in the heart of downtown Fort Lauderdale. I looked up at the sign and there, in big bold letters, read the words Aimee Lee Dance Studio. Tears welled up in my eyes. I glanced over at my husband who was wearing a huge smile.

  “No you didn’t!” I yelled.

  “Yes, I did,” he smiled. “This is your graduation gift. I’m proud of you.”

  “Oh my God. Thank you, baby!”

  “Let’s go check it out.”

  Lucas parked the car in my designated parking spot, then tossed the building keys over to me. Rushing out of the car, I opened the door and fell in love. The studio was done in my favorite colors: red, burnt orange, and yellow. The studio was equipped with top of the line dance equipment, water fountains, a dressing room with built in showers, and a massive office in the back corner. Everything was already set-up and ready to go, the only thing left for me to do was promote my studio and hire choreographers.

  “I love it baby! You’re amazing!” I ran into Lucas’ arms, kissing him.

  “Anything for you baby!”

  *******

  “Oh shit!” I yelled once I realized I’d overslept. Lucas was scheduled to return from his run in fifteen minutes, and breakfast wasn’t done.

  I jumped out of the bed like it was on fire, quickly brushed my teeth and ran downstairs to prepare breakfast. With quick fingers, I prepared bacon, eggs, and toast. Just as I was pouring his orange juice, Lucas walked in the house.

  “Good morning, baby!” he chimed.

  “Good morning, babe,” I smiled, placing a Smart Water in front of him.

  “Do you mind ironing the canary yellow dress shirt for me, please?” he asked with a mouth full of eggs.

  “Sure, babe.”

  I walked upstairs and grabbed the shirt out of the closet. While waiting for the iron to get hot, I texted Shanice, asking her to come by the studio. Grabbing the iron, I placed it on the shirt, causing a burn mark to appear.

  “Oh shit,” I began to panic when I noticed the huge mark.

  I hurriedly rushed to the bathroom in search for something to clean up the stain. The sounds of Lucas’ footsteps coming up the stairs frightened me, causing me to spray bleach on the shirt instead of the Shout.

  “Baby, is my shirt ready?” he called out from the room.

  “No,” I cried.

  “No?” he asked, walking in the bathroom. “What the fuck did you do to my shirt?” he asked once he noticed the white bleach stains.

  “I accidently burned it, so I tried cleaning it off,” I whispered.

  “With fucking bleach?” he yelled.

  “Yes, I made a mistake and—”

  WHAP!

  Lucas smacked me across the face before I could finish my sentence.

  “I’m about to show your ass a mistake. Bring your ass out here now!” he demanded, walking out the bathroom.

  WHAP! WHAP!

  He two pieced me, causing me to fly into the wall.

  “You’re not satisfied unless I put my fucking hands on you, are you?”

  “No, baby. No, I’m sorry!” I cried, scooting back when I saw him unplug the iron.

  “I’ma show your ass a mistake. Lift your fucking shirt!” he yelled.

  “No!” I cried.

  WHAP! WHAP! WHAP!

  He rained blows to my face.

  “I SAID, LIFT YOUR FUCKING SHIRT!” he yelled, grabbing me like I was a rag doll and tossing me to the side.

  He ripped the shirt off of my back, then pinned me down as he placed the burning iron to my flesh.

  “Ahhhhhh!” I screamed out in pain. I smelled my skin burning.

  When he finally released me, I quickly jumped up and ran inside of the bathroom, locking the door behind me. I was relieved when he didn’t come after me. I stood by the door and cried until I heard the front door slam shut.

  Running out of the room, I grabbed as many things as I could and stuffed them in my Gucci duffle bags. I had well over fifty thousand dollars stored in my bank account. I would definitely be able to survive without Lucas. I gently slid a maxi dress over my head, careful not to touch my wound.

  Grabbing my purse, keys, and phone I made a dash out of the house, not bothering to lock the door behind me. Throwing the bags in the back seat, I quickly jumped in and burned rubber. I wasn’t sure of my destination, but I had to get as far away from Lucas as I possibly could.

  I ended up driving three hours to Orlando and decided to stop and get a hotel room. I went across the street to a CVS Pharmacy and purchased a first aid kit to take care of my wound. I made sure to pay for the hotel with my cash so my whereabouts wouldn’t appear on any of the accounts.

  After taking care of my wound, dressing it the best I could, I took two BC powders and laid back on the bed. I wasn’t sure what my next move was going to be, but I did know for a fact I had to get away from Lucas. Being with Lucas, I was afraid to breathe wrong, cook the wrong meal, or even wash his clothes because I could end up getting smacked in the face. I was finally coming to terms with the fact that no matter what I did, Lucas was never going to be satisfied with me.

  I was in a deep slumber when I felt myself getting yanked out of the bed.

  “You trying to leave me, bitch? Well this is your only way out,” he said, pulling me to the balcony. I could kick myself for getting a room on the top floor.

  “Stop, Lucas! Baby, please stop!” I cried.

  “You trying to leave me, Aimee? Why you tryna leave me, ma?” he asked with red, bloodshot eyes.

 
; “If you want to leave me, A, this your only way out. Tell me now you tryna dip out on a nigga?” he asked, pushing my head over the balcony.

  “No, baby, I’m not leaving you, I swear. I just needed to clear my head. I’m coming back home. Please baby, don’t do this,” I cried, afraid for my life.

  “Good. I swear to God, A, I take our vows seriously. The only way I’m saying goodbye to you is if you’re in a casket going six feet under,” he said, pulling me back up. “You understand?”

  “Yes, I understand.”

  “Good girl. Pack your shit and let’s go!”

  I walked around the room and gathered my bags. I couldn’t understand how he found me, nor got into my room for that matter. I made sure I took extra precautions. I even came to a different city for God’s sake. It was like Lucas said, the only way I would be able to get away from him would be by death. I was afraid he was going to kill me before I even got the chance to live my life.

  Lucas grabbed my bags from me and carried them downstairs. When we reached the front office, I gave the attendant my key card and signed out. I noticed the flirtatious looks she kept sending Lucas’ way, but the fear of getting my ass smacked made me bite my tongue.

  “Will I be seeing you again, Lucas?” the attendant boldly asked.

  “I have your number. I’ll call you,” he replied, pulling at my hand.

  “Follow me. I swear to God if you try something stupid, I will kill you,” he said, lifting his shirt to reveal his gun.

  “Ok,” I nodded, getting in my car.

  Chapter 11

  Aimee

  “Hey beautiful,” Lucas greeted me with a smile and yellow roses.

  I was beginning to think that Lucas was bipolar and needed to be taking Latuda three times a day. He would beat me like I was a slave, then come home the next day with gifts, like everything was normal. Physically, I was getting tired of the abuse. Emotionally, I was slowly dying, but I still stayed. Not only did I fear for my life, but in some weird and twisted way, I still loved Lucas. I even silently prayed at night that he would change and we could go back to the way things were.

  “Come here, pretty girl, and give daddy some love,” he replied, wrapping his arms around me.

  As soon as our bodies made contact, the smell of another woman’s perfume tickled my nose, causing me to feel nauseous. The red lipstick on the collar of his white Gucci dress shirt was all the confirmation that I needed to conclude that my husband was cheating on me. The nerve of this nigga to talk about taking vows seriously, when he was breaking the first law of marriage.

  “Who is she?” I asked with an instant attitude.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Who is the bitch that you came home smelling like!” I yelled.

  “I’ma need for you to calm down and lower your fucking voice. I work in an office filled with woman, perfume rubs off all the time,” he explained.

  “And the lipstick stain on your collar?” I asked.

  Removing his shirt, he brought it up to his eyes and inspected it.

  “How do you know for sure it’s lipstick?” he asked, playing with my intelligence.

  “Lucas, I’m a woman, I recognize lipstick when I see it.”

  “I’m tired. I am not having this conversation with you,” he said, walking away.

  “So, you’re man enough to beat me, but you’re not man enough to admit you’re cheating?” I replied, regretting the words as soon as they left my lips.

  “What the fuck did you just say?” he asked, turning around.

  Instead of repeating my words, I just stood there in silence.

  “No, bitch. You were talking all that shit, repeat it,” he said, walking towards me.

  When I didn’t reply, he grabbed me by my hair and dragged me up the stairs. The pain of my body hitting against the marble stairs was too much. I cried out in pain. When we reached the room, he punched me in the face, before tossing me into the wall.

  “You are going to learn to respect me as the man of the house,” he said, searching through his collection of belts.

  When his eyes landed on his dark brown and gold Versace belt, he pulled it down. Walking towards me with anger in his eyes, he swung the belt, connecting it with my back.

  “Oucccccccccch!” I yelled out in pain. “Please stop! I’m sorry, Lucas, stoooooop!” I begged.

  My pleas for him to stop fell on deaf ears as he continued to beat me with the belt, as if I was his child. With each blow from the belt, I could feel my skin welt up. The only thing I could do was hide my face as I cursed my mouth for landing me this ass whopping.

  “To answer your fucking question, yes. I just came from fucking another bitch, but her head game was whack. Come suck daddy’s dick how he likes it,” he wickedly said.

  I couldn’t move; I stayed in the same position. My burning skin was too much to bare, so I just laid there and prayed he would storm out of the house like he always did.

  “Didn’t you hear me, bitch?” he asked, yanking me up by my hair.

  My scalp burned. He forcefully wrapped his hand around my hair. Unzipping his pants, he allowed them to fall to the ground. His dick sprang through the slit of his boxers, poking me in the eye.

  “Suck this dick, bitch. Then, maybe I’ll forgive you.”

  Opening my mouth, I did as I was told. My body ached from the top of my head to the bottom of my feet. Another beating was something I was trying to avoid. Going back to the beginning of our relationship, when I felt loved and secure, gave me the motivation to suck his dick how he wanted me to. Ignoring the burning sensation in my jaw, I sucked his dick as if my life depended on it, because it did. Stuffing his whole dick down my throat, I used my tongue to play with his balls, until he came.

  “Good bitch,” he said, patting me on the head as if I was a puppy. “Do you want some of daddy’s dick?” he asked.

  “Yes,” I whispered, softly.

  Even if the feeling was only going to last for a moment, I wanted to so badly feel loved by Lucas. I couldn’t understand what I was doing so wrong for him to treat me the way he did. I did everything he asked of me, I even learned the things that ticked him off and avoided doing them. I loved my husband with all of my heart, but I was afraid to stay married to him. I no longer felt secure, but I wouldn’t dare tell him that.

  ******

  “You haven’t been spending much time at the dance studio,” my mother said, walking into my office with lunch.

  “I’ve been running things from home, but I make sure to come in at least twice a week,” I replied.

  “For someone to be so passionate about dance, I figured you would set up a bed in here and live in this studio,” she chuckled.

  “I wish,” I said under my breath.

  “What was that, sweetie?”

  “Nothing, mama,” I replied, deliberately brushing my hair to the side of my face.

  “Oh my. Aimee, what happened to your face?” she asked, running her fingers over the bruise that was slowly healing.

  “Lucas,” I replied, crying.

  For the first time, I was speaking out about my abuse. I wanted a way out, and if I couldn’t get out on my own, I figured my mother could help me. A mother’s job was to protect their child, so I expected her to come up with a solution that would break me away from my abuser.

  “Oh honey, what are doing to him?” she asked, shocking me.

  “Mom, what are you implying?” I asked, baffled.

  “I’m not implying anything. Listen, the moment I met Lucas, I knew what type of man he was. A rich man with power is always a recipe for disaster. Trust me, I know. Your father used to beat me. He would beat me when dinner wasn’t on time, if the clothes weren’t washed, if the house wasn’t clean, even if I would misuse a word in a sentence. I wanted to run, trust me I did, until my mother told me it came with the territory. She told me a woman who marries a powerful man had to accept everything he came with. At first, I didn’t understand what my mother
was saying, until I almost lost my life trying to escape. Then I realize the best thing for me to do was deal with the abuse and hide it from you and Ashton the best I could,” she said, wiping her tears away.

  “Mama, I don’t understand.”

  “Do you love him?” she asked.

  “Yes, of course I do.”

  “Then stay. Love don’t change, love. Although he expresses his anger in a hateful way, it doesn’t mean that he doesn’t love you, sweetheart. Try to avoid everything that ticks him off,” she suggested.

  “I have mama, but it’s just that he gets so angry.”

  “Trust me sweetie, you’ll learn. I learned. It took me time, but once I finally understood how your father operated, I learned what not to do.”

  “Are you saying this is ok?” I asked.

  “No, it’s not ok, but it’s life. It happened to my mother. The only difference between my mother and I is that I kept it from you and your brother. Trust me, things will get better with time.”

  “Mama, can you please excuse yourself? I have work to do.”

  “Aimee, if you try to leave, he will only find you and things may end up worse than they are now.”

  “Mama, just get out, now!”

  I was angry that I finally opened up about my abuse, but was told to stay. How could a mother tell their child to stay in a fucked up situation? I felt so lost and alone in my situation. I thought about calling Shanice, but with her high blood pressure, she was now a high-risk pregnancy and on bed rest. I didn’t want her stressing the baby over my drama, so I denied that thought.

  When I got home from work, I made sure the house was cleaned, the laundry was done, and dinner was nice and hot, waiting for Lucas in the oven. After my house chores, I took a long hot bath and attempted to clear my thoughts. ‘Until death do us part’ kept running through my head like a broken record.

  Rising out of the bath, I grabbed all the pills out of the medicine cabinet and got back in the water. I was tired of the abuse, pain, and constantly living in fear. This was my only way out, and I was willing to take it.