You're Always Sorry (short story/monologue)

The first time you hit me was during a row.
You’d been to the pub. You were watching the match and you’d been drinking.
I only mentioned it because I was worried.
You’d been drinking more than usual, spending money we didn’t have. I was worried about us. I was worried about you but you didn’t see it like that. You thought l was being critical. You thought I was trying to make you angry and then you became defensive; which led to arguing; which led to name calling and ultimately resulted in my black eye.
I don’t remember feeling pain. I remember feeling shock. I remember running to the bedroom.
You followed me.
Your eyes were wide like you couldn’t believe what he’d just done. I couldn’t believe it either.
You told me you were sorry over and over. You promised me it would never happen again and said that you loved me; that you loved me more than anything.
I believed and I forgave. You held me and kissed me while I cried.
Then we made love and you were so gentle, caring and giving that I knew that you loved me and you were sorry.
When you cut back on the drinking I knew for certain that you would never do it again. I knew it had just been one time; one mistake.

I was wrong.

The second time you hit me was almost a month later. You came home late. Hours after your shift had finished and you were staggering around drunker than I’ve ever seen you before.
Bad day at work you said; just a few drinks; no big deal.
You could have called, was my response. I didn’t know where you were.
That was all I said. I wasn’t accusing you of anything though you thought I was.
We argued. You shoved me. I fell against the kitchen worktop and I landed on the floor.
I felt the pain that second time. I also felt anger. I was angry that you’d lied. I was angry that you broke your promise. You’d promised never to hurt me again.
That same night I packed a bag. I wanted to stay with a friend but of course there would have been questions; accusations and I froze up.
I went to a Travelodge. I needed time to think.

I couldn’t sleep without you to hold me.
I went back the next morning. You cried; begged me not to leave. You looked a mess. I knew you’d been awake all night as well. I felt the physical pain but you’d had the guilt.
You told me you were sorry.
I know that you were sorry. That’s why I went back to you.
Being sorry didn’t stop you doing it again.

It surprising the things that you learn when you have a secret to hide.
You have learned never to hit my face because there are only so many times a person can get hit with a football before people start asking questions.
I have learned which brand and shade of foundation provides the best cover-up for bruises. I have learned to keep some in the bathroom cabinet just in case.
You have learned to ignore the frightened look in my eyes when you go to the drinks cabinet.
I have learned that long sleeved shirts can hide all manner of sins.
We have both learned to become liars. Lying comes to us now as easily as breathing.
You lie to me when you promise it will never happen again because we both know now that it will.
I lie to myself when I say I’m not afraid of you because I am.
I lie to my friends when I tell them I’m fine because I know I’m not.
I lie because I’m ashamed of what is happening and because I’m scared that they will tell the police and you will be taken away from me.
I have learned that I can’t lose you. I know that I would die without you.
You have learned that because I can’t lose you I will forgive you anything.

But you don’t lie about being sorry. I know you are always sorry when it’s done.
I don’t lie about being in love with you.
That’s why I will always take you back no matter what.
And I will never stop praying that you will change.