Wish I Could Have Faltered (Wish I Could Have Changed)
She manages to suppress the panic bubbling under the surface just enough as she shuts her front door that she does not automatically reach for the nearest bottle of alcohol. And part of her wants it so bad her skin itches and crawls but another part of her did not want to be that person any more. The one that drowned it all in drink and then has to pick up the pieces that were left the next day and start all over again.
Too many people were depending on her and he just demanded that she fail, again.
Hot familiar tears collected under her closed eyelids as she leaned her weight against the closed door. She'd made a self deprecating joke at some point, probably to Maria about dehydration. But she almost welcomed the purity of it. Of crying out every last bit of moisture inside her till she became dry and paper thin and would eventually crumble into nothing as if she never existed.
She had thought about it again on the way home. It seemed odd that once the idea of suicide had entered her head it would not leave her alone. Not after a failed attempt. Not after she tried so hard to get better, and she really did try so hard, but it was impossible with him being there constantly. It didn't matter if it was in her mind or with a competing business.
She had walked home in ridiculous shoes and no coat because she could not bring herself to crawl back to Maria and a taxi felt too claustrophobic. And there had been the cannel as always. All glistening in the dark like another world, water rippling and deceivingly calm. She thought about letting herself slip away into the murky depths with all its other secrets. She thought of windswept gowns and desperate women all alone and wondered if she was hallucinating. It was all just so tempting, just for a tiny moment the pull towards the dark lonely water was immeasurable.
A strangled sob escaped her and she jumped away finally realizing with sickening horror the position she held herself in. Her ankle twisted a little but she refused to fall. Refused to physically relive it any further than the daily repeats she saw within her own mind. Hated herself a little more for putting herself back in that position.
She really needed a drink. Only the old methods didn't work like they used to. New trauma built upon old calluses and she had no idea how to deal with any of it. If he went away it would be a start and maybe she would be able to sleep through the night but that seemed impossible when he could turn the whole world against her and she was already so very, very tired.
It's not her home anymore she finally decides as tears blur her vision and she moves around the room like a ghost. It had always been theirs. Each one of those bastards snatching pieces of her and taking it with them. She had no idea why she had stuck around and fought so hard for something that meant nothing. It was just now she had no where else to go. No one to call.
Maybe she had always been friendless it had just never mattered so much but now she stared at her mobile. The mundane messages and emails regarding word as if she could will someone to suddenly understand she needed help right this second and ring. Maria had already done all she could and had her own problems, Susie and Michelle were too far away and she had burned every bridge with Leanne already.
She did not even notice the silence. So used to chatter or the radio or an old Oasis album. It wasn't that she wanted silence; she just did not remember how to make noise. And it was strange how she could create the image of a proper social butterfly and yet have formed no real connections with anyone. There had been men but she had never really had any of them, not fully. And they all left in the end. It's not the first time she had wondered if there really was something deeply wrong with her. Oddly she could not find a reason to care.
She settles in the kitchen area, now bare feet cold against the smooth floor. There is always the other man who occupies her thoughts. The one she might be more addicted to than the booze. She had spent so long relying on him to save her, expecting him to save her again. Only this time was impossible, there was no psychic link between telling him to come running, he never really fixed much of anything anyway. And he had a life of his own with no place for a used up destructive alcoholic. She could only bring him down when he was doing so well.
It makes her angry; that she can lie to the man she might potentially love. He asks constantly after her health and she constantly lies 'I'm fine' with a half smile that never reaches her eyes because what else could she say? He should know somehow he should know that it was all a lie. Somehow he should be able to see into the dull darkness in her eyes and gently scorn her for not telling the truth. Only he never does, he accepts her words and heads right back home to his wife and son.
She shouldn't be angry, she is not his to save, but she can't seem to help it.
But anger dissolves in terror. She used to be so angry at him but now all she can muster is fear and defeat. Somehow she had grown custom to his constant metal torture. It did not mean it didn't terrify her it was just that she was so worn down she did not believe it could ever end.
He had already won.
And there is nothing left to save. She does not want there to be anything left to save because it's such a long way up again. Too much pain and confusion to get to the other side when she had just found the comfort of numbness. Maybe this was finally rock bottom but honestly, it felt like a way out, the only option in making things better.
She had no one to phone this time, it was not a spectator sport. She would not leave a note full of any truths when they had all gone over it too much anyway. In the end she would go quietly, with a knife and without any hesitation. Any noise blocked out under the sound of the shower till she passes out and waits to die by the drain. She does not think of when her body will be found.