country roads
I may never be able to say the words out loud - but I’m finding that it’s getting easier to put pen to paper, so to speak. It shouldn’t still affect me this way, when it’s been almost a decade since I even saw his face... I’m not sure how many more of these memories I can handle, when it already feels like too much. But... here goes nothing.
—-
Maybe it wasn’t just those times. The times that it was glaringly obvious. Or even the times that I remember. Maybe every time he laid a hand on me, his intention was to finish the job. And maybe it would have been better if he had. Sure, I’d be gone - but he’d be in prison. And maybe that would have made it all worthwhile.
every house
is haunted
with these demons
from my past
pounding heart
racing pulse
nightmare
put to words
at last
if I could say
the words out loud
or take a deeper breath
or stop this shaking
in my hands
or use the time
that I have left
then maybe
I could figure out
what else is hiding
deep within
what other fears
and memories
keep my world
in this never
ending
spin
every shadow
in the dark
every noise
that stops my heart
though logic says
it can’t be true
every nightmare
is always
you
The headlights from his truck cast the only light on the road ahead as we drove through a moonless night. I don’t know why I thought it was the right time to bring it up - why I thought there would ever be a right time. Maybe I thought that he couldn’t hurt me if he was behind the wheel. But that only goes to show how very naive I still was, even after almost two years of his abuse. Why didn’t I leave? Why did I ever think I could change him? The nights that I still wake up in a cold sweat, after reliving another nightmare from when we were together - the very same questions run through my head every time.
even in
these fever dreams
rasping breath
and burning skin
nothing is ever
as it seems
and I can’t
get you
to go away
such simple words
a simple dream
no consequence
or so it would seem -
“I think
I’m going
to leave him”
a single breath
and I am reeling
falling through
this fog of feeling
right
over
the edge
again
even in
my fever dream
I can’t tell if this
is insanity
or the only sane thing
that I’ve
ever
done
knowing
that leaving
will be my death
at the hands
of a deranged
sociopath
every shadow
in the dark
every noise
that stops my heart
though logic says
it can’t be true
every nightmare
is always
you
I took a deep breath in the silence. “I saw the text messages you sent to your ex. I... I thought you told me it was over between the two of you.”
The silence turned to stone, and it should have been enough to tell me that I had already gone too far.
Another breath, and then he asked, ever so calmly - “What were you doing looking through my phone?”
I was already shaking. Everything in me was screaming to shut the f*ck up, to drop it, that I had already taken it too far. But when have I ever listened to sound advice from anyone?
“You left your phone unlocked and open to your conversation with her on the kitchen counter today. Almost like you wanted me to see it. But those texts were from today. And they were... dirty.” Shut up, shut up, you f*cking idiot. Just stop before it’s too late. “You told me you broke it off with her, but those texts didn’t seem like it.”
He reached over and put his hand on my shoulder. He seemed like he was trying to comfort me, but I knew better - it had been a long time since a touch from him was any kind of comfort.
Every muscle in my body tensed as I told myself that he couldn’t possibly try to hurt me while he was driving.
And I wasn’t wrong. He didn’t try to hurt me.
He tried to f*cking kill me.
Before I knew what was happening, he had unbuckled my seatbelt, reached across me to open my door, and swerved the truck as he shoved me - hard - toward the asphalt that was flying by, and the drop that was just on the other side.
shaking hands
ragged breath
pounding heart
just one more step
just breathe
just breathe
just...
I almost fell out. If it were any other highway, any other night - there would have been cars. There would have been witnesses. Someone would have called the cops. Surely they would have, wouldn’t they?
But it doesn’t matter now. There were no other cars. There was no one there to save me... from him.
I grabbed the handle of the open door and tried desperately to pull myself up as it swung, tried to to stop the momentum from finishing the job that he had started - I couldn’t tell if it was the tires screeching, or if it was my own screaming - and suddenly, just as suddenly as it began, he grabbed me by the hair and dragged me back into the cab.
I’ll never know why.
And I’ll never want to know why.
All I’ve ever wanted was to erase him from my life, my past, my memories.
don’t look at me
don’t move a muscle
don’t breathe
or even flinch
I’m terrified
of my own mind
fighting
for every
inch
every shadow
in the dark
every noise
that stops my heart
though logic says
it can’t be true
every nightmare
is always
you
I was shaking uncontrollably. Barely able to take a breath. He let go of my hair and squeezed my shoulder, making me flinch - and ever so calmly, he said,
“Babe, put your seatbelt on. You know it’s not safe to be inside a moving vehicle without wearing a seatbelt... We wouldn’t want anything to happen to you, now would we?” And he flashed that warm, familiar smile, now so foreign on his face... the face of a sociopath.
I couldn’t move a muscle.