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Description
He hurts.

He hurts her when he gets angry.  She cries and cries and begs for mercy and apologizes for things she never did, but he still hurts.  He hurts because he’s angry, angry at the world and himself and everyone but her and yet it’s her he hurts.  Because she’s there, and it’s easy.  Because he only knows hurt, and hate, and a rage that leaves no room for seeing what’s right and wrong.  So he hurts.

She hurts.

She hurts herself because he hurts her, but she can’t hurt him back.  She’s too weak, he’s too strong, and hurting herself is simpler anyway.  Because she’s always there, with herself, open and susceptible.  Ready for pain.  But sometimes it’s too much, because she is always there.  Always there, but never there.  Always in pain, but never feeling.  She hurts herself, and he hurts her, and sometimes the combination even makes her feel.

They hurt.

They hurt because he hurt her until she hurt herself until it all came crashing down.  And now she can’t hurt, because she’s dead.  And now they hurt so terribly with the memory of who she was.  Not when she died, but before.  Before self-hatred, before him, before hurt itself.  But hurt changed her, as it changed him, as it changes them.  Now they hurt, to know she hurt herself with fatal intent.  And she succeeded, and that intent all came from him hurting her.  They want to hate him, so much, until he’s so sorry he’ll never be able to forgive himself.  But they know that once, someone hurt him too.

Description
He hurts.

He hurts her when he gets angry.  She cries and cries and begs for mercy and apologizes for things she never did, but he still hurts.  He hurts because he’s angry, angry at the world and himself and everyone but her and yet it’s her he hurts.  Because she’s there, and it’s easy.  Because he only knows hurt, and hate, and a rage that leaves no room for seeing what’s right and wrong.  So he hurts.

She hurts.

She hurts herself because he hurts her, but she can’t hurt him back.  She’s too weak, he’s too strong, and hurting herself is simpler anyway.  Because she’s always there, with herself, open and susceptible.  Ready for pain.  But sometimes it’s too much, because she is always there.  Always there, but never there.  Always in pain, but never feeling.  She hurts herself, and he hurts her, and sometimes the combination even makes her feel.

They hurt.

They hurt because he hurt her until she hurt herself until it all came crashing down.  And now she can’t hurt, because she’s dead.  And now they hurt so terribly with the memory of who she was.  Not when she died, but before.  Before self-hatred, before him, before hurt itself.  But hurt changed her, as it changed him, as it changes them.  Now they hurt, to know she hurt herself with fatal intent.  And she succeeded, and that intent all came from him hurting her.  They want to hate him, so much, until he’s so sorry he’ll never be able to forgive himself.  But they know that once, someone hurt him too.