Editing Soyjak.blog/Copypastas (section)

===Jimbo x Terrycrews fanfiction===
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Jimbo sat on the edge of the couch, hands clasped tightly in his lap. His breath was shallow, the quiet of the room thick with the sound of the ticking clock. Terry was in the kitchen, her movements erratic, slamming cupboards shut as she muttered to himself. The smell of alcohol clung to the air, strong and bitter.
"Jimbo!" Terry's voice suddenly broke through the silence, harsh and demanding. "Did you touch my stuff again?"
Jimbo flinched at the outburst, but he tried to remain calm. He had learned over the years that responding with anger only made things worse. "No, Terry, I didn't touch anything. I swear."
Terry stepped into the living room, her face flushed, eyes wild. "You think I'm stupid? You think I don't know what you're doing? You never respect me—never!"
Jimbo stood up quickly, his heart pounding. He had seen this look in Terry’s eyes before. The rage that built up behind them always seemed to come from nowhere. “Terry, please... you're drunk. Let’s talk about this when you’re sober.”
“You don’t get to tell me what to do!” Terry shouted, her fists clenched at his sides. Jimbo backed away, but his legs were already trembling. "I put up with your crap every damn day, and this is how you repay me?"
Terry was too close now, and Jimbo’s instinct to protect himself kicked in. But there was no place to run. His back was against the wall.
Then, as if the weight of her words had finally hit him, Terry stopped. His expression faltered, guilt flashing in his eyes. "I'm sorry. I... I don't know what's wrong with me."
Jimbo’s breath hitched. His chest tightened, a mix of fear and sadness. "You need help, Terry. This isn’t you. This isn’t us. I can't keep doing this."
Terry’s face contorted with frustration, her hands shaking. "I don’t want to hurt you... I don’t want this to be us, either. But... it’s like I can’t stop."
For a long moment, there was only silence. The weight of their reality hung between them.
“I can’t keep living like this,” Jimbo whispered, more to himself than to Terry. “I can’t keep pretending everything is fine.”
Terry’s eyes welled up with tears, but Jimbo couldn’t bring himself to comfort her this time. Not when it felt like they were both standing on the edge of something far more dangerous than either of them wanted to admit.
Jimbo sat on the edge of the bed, his fingers gripping the sheets. His heart still pounded in his chest, but the initial shock was starting to fade, replaced by a deep, gnawing fear. Terry was silent now, her back to Jimbo as he sat in the living room, the light dim from the setting sun. The silence between them felt suffocating.
Then Terry's voice broke through, softer now—almost regretful. "Jimbo..." she started, her tone quieter, more controlled. "I'm sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. I don’t know what came over me."
<domestic abuse space
Jimbo lifted his head, blinking, trying to process the sudden shift. "Terry... you said you wouldn't do this again." His voice cracked slightly. "Why does this keep happening?"
Terry stood up, walking toward him with slow, measured steps. Her eyes were soft now, her face full of sorrow. "I hate myself for what I did. I never meant to hurt you. I swear, I don't want to be like this. You're all I have, Jimbo."
Jimbo wanted to believe her. He wanted to reach out and accept the comfort Terry seemed to be offering now. The guilt in Terry's eyes—those rare moments where he showed remorse—felt like a lifeline, something to cling to.
<domestic abuse space
But Jimbo couldn't ignore the deep knot in his stomach. “You said that last time. And the time before that.”
Terry dropped to her knees in front of Jimbo, grabbing his hands and squeezing them. "I know, I know... I was drunk. I don’t even remember what I said half the time, but I remember how much i hurt you. I remember seeing the pain in your eyes. It destroys me." Her voice wavered, and for a brief moment, Jimbo felt a flicker of hope that this time could be different. "I can get better, Jimbo. I promise. I’ll quit drinking. I’ll do whatever it takes. For you, for us."
Jimbo felt a warm pressure on his chest—like a weight lifting, but only for a moment. “I just... I need you to be the man I married, Terry. Not this person. I need to feel safe again.”
<domestic abuse space
Terry’s face softened further, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. It was a smile Jimbo had seen many times before—one that hid all the things that would come later. The promise of change, the gentle touch, the words that seemed to heal the cracks in their relationship... but only temporarily.
“I’ll be that woman, Jimbo. I swear to you. You mean everything to me,” Terry murmured, leaning in to kiss Jimbo’s forehead, brushing away the tear that had slipped down her cheek.
<domestic abuse space
For a moment, Jimbo allowed himself to believe it. The warmth of Terry’s touch, the tenderness in her voice... it felt real. Maybe things would get better. Maybe Terry could get better. But deep down, Jimbo knew the truth. He had heard these words before, and though he wanted so badly to believe them, part of him feared that the cycle would start all over again.
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