Don't lie and say that it's okay. It's alright if there's nothing more to say. So I'm running away, I'm leaving this place, I'm running away, I'm running away . . .

Running Away

It was the small things that changed first. Little problems I didn't notice until it was too late, when they'd already gotten massive and out of control.

The way I slowly lost contact with my friends in such a subtle way I didn't see it until it was too late. Changes to the things I did or said. Demands from Jesse and me that I told myself I couldn't ignore. When in truth, it was because I was too scared to leave him for too long. I was terrified I was going to suddenly lose him or that he would change his mind somehow. I wasn't prepared or ready to deal with the complete change to my life, I hadn't even noticed had happened. Like letting him know what I was doing, where I was, who I was with. Things I never needed to do before.

My family had their suspicions at first until he worked his magic, doing what he does best to everyone; charmed and soothed them. He made them laugh and relax not even half an hour into his visit. Any concerns they might have had with me at the beginning of our turbulent relationship, were put to rest as I fell deeper in-love with him. I attracted the eye of a lot of disbelief and jealousy. A lot of people told us it wasn't going to work, we were too different. They told us we were living in denial and that it was all going to go horribly wrong sooner or later.

But we fought to prove them all wrong.

As the first couple of years dragged on - and Jesse and I moved in together - I didn't notice the changes to myself, the subtle shift in character and behavior. I'd become even more confident and brazen, saying exactly what I thought when before I would've just kept quiet to keep the peace. Little parts of myself I didn't hardly recognize. I was slowly losing who I was and I didn't seem to be aware of it. I'd become a slave to our relationship, the more I gave myself to it.

On the outside I was fine - normal even. When on the inside, there was a pit of despair that was equal and just as powerful as my love for Jesse.

That hadn't changed, it'd just grown more and more. We'd both been swallowed up by it; shocked by how how strong and potent our feelings were. It made us both more dependent on each other, so we pushed others away until there was only the two of us. It was still the same addiction I felt when I had first started seeing him, only much, much worse now. I was engulfed by an abyss of love and hate and Jesse was right down there with me, trying to claw our way out of it.

All the bad stuff just festered and grew, getting stronger the longer the time passed.

Jesse had changed too, I learned more about him then anyone ever had. I saw a side to him he didn't dare show anyone else and I felt empowered by that. Unfortunately it just made me see the differences between us even more and like all relationships, we had our problems. Small things that didn't need to get out of hand but did anyway. We'd scream and argue with each other constantly; cutlery got thrown into walls; doors were slammed and locked behind each other - both saying things neither meant, but hurt all the same.

But beyond all that, somehow we still feel deeper in-love. No-one knew just how bad we had it with each other. When it was really good with us I'd ask him if we fought so much because we loved each other too much. Our heated arguments just seemed to be piling up against us, completely over-shadowing the good times we had.

We didn't know it but we got into a routine with other that was as poisonous as the arguments were. We'd constantly keep tabs on each other throughout the day, because neither of us trusted each other. There was pure undiluted love, but not trust. And we both openly acknowledged that. He was a flirt and a charmer and I didn't trust him one bit. I was wary and kept a close eye on him when we went out. I'd catch a glance here and there, letting him have that one dance with the girl starting to drape all over him, that most of the time he'd let while watching my reaction and enjoying my brewing anger.

But in the end, I would easily do the same to him. Find a good-looking man that would make Jesse jealous and seething with rage. A twisted and cruel game we played on each other; we wanted to see who would hurt the most when game-over arrived.

I never would've done that before I met Jesse. I would've walked away long before now. There wasn't a snowballs chance in hell I'd put up with being used like that. But I'm not that woman anymore; I'm older, different - changed. Jesse brought the best and worst out in me, just like I did with him. We butted heads more than we got on. We made jibes at each other, just to get a rise. We we're so completely wrong for one another, so twisted and caught in our warped relationship we didn't know where the end was.

I hated Jesse as much as he hated me. I hated how he'd made me, how he twisted me around his little finger and killed all of my paper-thin dreams of what it should've been like. He made me hurt with his words, pushing me to the brink of leaving him constantly, and I did exactly the same to him. I hated the new me and I blamed him for that, for corrupting and morphing me bit by bit until the point where there was no going back.

We we're so stuck, we couldn't even walk away from each other. On the times I tried, I didn't always get through the door - I couldn't. Just like he can't stay away when he storms out promising me we're over and that it's not worth it. He knows in the end that it is. That the hate and anger are nothing compared to how great we are together. When one laughs, the other can't help but smile too. When one feels sad, the other sheds the tears. When we're sorry . . . it's raw unbridled emotion. The passion, need, love. It's all there. All wrapped and shining through the cracks.

He has me tearing my hair out with anger, hurt and frustration. But when he looks at me in apology . . . when he places a kiss to the pulse in my neck and whispers how much he loves me in my ear; it's all I can do not to cry and wither to him. It just reminds me why I can't walk away from him. Why I can't leave, no matter how many times I pack my bags. I've always been safe knowing that he feels the same frustration I'm feeling.

We're trapped in a relationship filled with hate, viciousness and love. And even though I'm losing more and more of who I really am . . . I know I'll never stop. I'm completely lost to that dangerous charming man I met years ago and swore to stay away from. Lassoed and pulled in bit by bit as I dappled in a euphoria I thought I could walk away from anytime I wanted to. He made that line that was supposed to define black and white, love and hate, blur and disappear all together.

I understood why that person quoted that phrase now, and I knew I would live it, for the rest of my life.

Love may be priceless, but you can pay heavily for it.

But then it came down to this, right now, standing in front of my closet where I've been standing for the past hour trying to work up the courage to pack my bags and leave - for good. I paused as I heard the front door close harder than necessary. Shutting my eyes against the fresh sting of tears of not knowing what kind of reaction I was going to get when I went out there, I took a deep breath. We'd had one of the worst arguments yet, our apartment turned upside down in the wake of it. Considering how often we do argue - and some of the severity of those - it was saying a lot how bad this one had gotten. His words and anger were lost to me now. All I was left with was the same thing as every other time - a constant question of how could I keep on doing this to myself.

But I knew I didn't want to be here. That I needed to get away.

I was packing an overnight bag and preparing to go and stay at my best friend's house. Gina had stuck by me, even after I'd pushed all my other friends away. It helped that Gina understood just how far gone Jesse and I were. I lifted some sweatpants down from the top shelf and carried them over to my over-sized weekend bag, laying my clothes inside while I tried not to flinch as I heard him moving about our apartment. Dropping the last few things I needed onto the top of the pile I zipped it up and pulled on my thin jacket.

I didn't glance over at the photo sitting on our dresser, of Jesse and me in one of our happier moments. I didn't want anything to make me drop my bag and stay where I was. I'd been over-thinking whether or not to stay or go for hours and I'd finally come to a decision, I didn't want to change my mind. I've thought about moving out permanently a few times, but I knew that would be worse than living together. Lifting the bag from the bed, I walked over to the door, telling myself I wasn't going to hesitate as I walked out into the living room.

Jesse spun on his heel when I walked in. I headed for the phone table and picked up my car keys and purse. I paused again, not looking at Jesse as I waited for him to say something. Anything. But I knew I was wasting my time - his stubborn streak is just as strong and controlling as mine is. So I held back my frustrated, tired sigh and fresh new tears and walked to the door. His voice finally coming to me as I touched the cold brass handle.

"Where are you going?" His voice was scratchy and hoarse, like he'd been screaming at the top of his lungs. I couldn't blame him if he did; my screams came out as silent tears into my pillow as I slept alone, completely confused and afraid.

I kept my back to him as I took in another deep breath. "I'm going to a friends," I said quietly, not wanting to make it harder on either of us than it already was. "I need to get out." I tightened my fingers on the straps of my bag. Not putting it past him to take it out of hands and charm or bully me into staying. I don't want to go back to how we always do, pretending there isn't a problem and getting on with it.

I can't do that tonight.

"When are you coming back?" He sounds disinterested, but I know without looking that the answer is important to him. He's scared, I know he is because I can feel it too.

I turned to look at him seeing him leaning against the back of the couch with his arms crossed over his chest. His eyes as dark as ever, but I see something I've seen many times before, something I highly doubt anyone has ever caught a glimpse of before - his vulnerability. It's almost my undoing. I almost forget about it all and go along with our act because I hate seeing that look in his eyes. There's the possibility he's going for the sympathy vote and trying to lure me in, sure. But I know straight away that Jesse doesn't do weakness.

Or so he tries.

"I don't know, Jesse." I quietly stated, watching a muscle jump in his jaw as he clenched his teeth together at what that could mean to us both.

Looking away from me, his eyes sweep over the mess of the living room. A vase shattered against one wall, leaving a scuff mark and the broken pieces in a pile on the floor - that one was me. Just like it was him who destroyed the photo that had been sitting on the table. I knew the picture was gone to us, the glass had scratched it where he punched and swept it across the room. There was a path of destruction running through the apartment where the argument, following from one room to the other.

"So you're not going to stay and talk about it?" He shuffled on his feet, looking down at his shoes. I knew how much this was costing him, how much it was costing me. But I still didn't make any move to stay. "To try and sort it out."

"What's the point?" I shrugged, my tone almost pleading with him to give me a good enough reason to continue in the nightmare I was walking through. "We're just going to go back to same place we've been in for too long. And I just don't think I can take anymore, Jesse," My tone made his eyes connect with mine again. "So please . . . tell me why I should stay . . ."

Tears pricked my eyes and I didn't stop them from falling. I was tired and exhausted, emotionally and physically and I just couldn't see any kind of solution. I stood staring at him for endless moments and yet he didn't make any sign that he was going to answer or make the effort. With a sad laugh, I shook my head and turned the cold brass door handle.

"Because we're good together," His voice whispered to me, strained and choked. "And because I love you, querida."

But is it enough? A quiet voice finished for him.

I bit down on my quivering lips and heaved in a breath. Using every ounce of courage I had - because my pride had left me a long time ago - I pulled open the door and stepped across the threshold. I couldn't look back to Jesse as I pulled the door closed behind me. The soft clicking sound made one lone tear drop down my flushed cheeks. Thoughts raced through my mind as I questioned what I just did. How I didn't reassure him or myself, that I loved him too. How I'd taken the first steps to walking away and I was already faltering.

Only, I knew even as I'd let the door swing closed behind me that this wouldn't be the last time I stumbled. And it wouldn't be the last time I tried to leave either, or went away for however long I needed. Let's face it, I'm always going to go back to him. I'm completely trapped in a burning love and dark hate filled relationship with my true love.

How is anyone supposed to walk away from that?

Don't tell me I'm the one to blame, It's too late for you to make me stay, No, I won't stay, So I'm running away, I'm leaving this place, I'm running away, I'm running away . . .