It was an early morning yesterday
I was up before the dawn
And I really enjoyed my stay
But I must be moving on
He never saw it coming. It had to be this way or I never would have escaped. Had he had even an inkling of what I planned, he would've slept with one eye open (if he slept at all), and he would never have let me out of his sight. I had to do what I've always done, what I do best-assort, classify, type. I'm a scientist, I kindly told myself, I "compartmentalize." The reality was, I ignored, and when I couldn't anymore, I deny deny deny. Denial was the very best friend I had in the world.
It was the very thing that enabled me to sleep beside him for the last year. Why I could let him touch me without flinching. It's how I was able to make love with him last night without crying, without scratching his eyes out, without dropping the hair dryer in the bath with me after he passed out. Instead, I methodically washed our combined sweat and fluids from my body, not daring to delay long enough to dry my hair or bother with makeup. I packed everything I could leave with then and there.
I crept from our bedroom, my back to the door so I could watch him as I made my great escape, my suitcase bumping my knees like I was a kid running away from home in a fit of pique. Mulder never stirred.