I suffocate. Drowning deeper and deeper. Everything becomes a blur in an excruciating pace. My lungs are burning. I hear screaming. Then, I realize, the screams are mine. And the pain becomes poignant.
You are a fool.
I slowly close my eyes and I can't breathe. My hands spreading across my chest, my nails clawing, but I don't feel anything. My lungs-they yell for oxygen. I'm at the edge of a mountain. Leaning forward slightly, I fall. I'm falling. Suddenly I'm dead. And nothing would be more giving than that: to have the comfort of disappearing. I'm losing myself. No, I'm already lost.
I dried myself clean and began dressing. Checking myself in the mirror, I frowned disapprovingly. I carefully leaned in on the walls and peeked down the narrow stairway as my keen ears listened for noise. Slowly, step by step, I walked downstairs.
BAM!
Startled, I ran back into the bathroom. My hands clenched. I bit my lip to stop it from trembling. I waited. I waited for his heavy footsteps to mark his territory. I waited for him to creep up the stairs towards me. My chest rising and falling. Rising and falling.
"Violet, honey," a voice so faint, "he's gone."
Slowly, I walk out from behind the door, to see my mother. She's covered in bruises and cuts, old and new, and she's smiling.
How are you able to smile when you're so broken inside? How can you smile when you're in so much pain?
I lent her a hand when she attempted to get up and failed. She took it gratefully and carefully stood. I cringed at the vulnerability that seeped out of her pores. I noticed how she limped into the kitchen to grab a broom. She walked back to the mess to clean it all up, to clean up what he does to us. I stalked over to the refrigerator to grab some ice. I fiercely opened it and a bitter smile formed.
"You bought a cake."
"Yeah." I heard shattered glass tumble into the garbage can.
"Why? I told you I didn't want one."
I turned to her, running a hand through my hair. She shrugged and smiled a soft, pained smile. I don't know if it was forced or genuine, either way, it hurt to see her happy right now.
"So? That doesn't mean I can't get one. I promised you last year that I would get you one."
Her hand gently caressed my cheek and I wanted to melt into her touch.
But I can't.
"You shouldn't have bought me a cake, Mom. You should have saved your money."
So we can leave him.
But I wouldn't say that out loud, she would never agree with me. She would be angry, angry at me for not understanding her, for not ignoring the problem the way she does. No, I would never say it out loud.
Instead, I grabbed my keys and my phone off of the kitchen counter and walked out the door, ignoring my mother's pleas as I left. I went for my secret spot, off of Mulholland Dr. I come here to think, to cry, to hide. Dressed in jeans and a baggy sweatshirt, I wouldn't imagine that anyone would talk to me anyway.
I sit under a tree and pull out my phone, turning on the camera so I can see the damage he's done to me. My lip is busted, so is my left eyebrow. There are bruises lining my jawline, and I have a black eye.
That'll be hard to cover up. Oh well.
Everyday is a painful challenge. I sit, questioning humanity, questioning morals. Does he even have any? My demons are lurking again. How can I defeat them? How can I save myself? At the end of the day, there is nothing I can do, nothing to prevent the nightmare of my daily life. I blinked a couple of times, causing a tear to roll down my cheek. I winced as the salty water ran down my battered face. I wiped it off quickly, shutting down all traces of vulnerability. I can't be weak, not now, not tomorrow, not ever. He feeds on it. I stretched my arms up into the sky and took in the large, blue sky. I blinked. This is my sanctuary, the only place he can't touch me.
