“I want to talk to you! I’m sorry I interrupted!”
Hand to the doorknob and twist without a budge.
Sigh and look at the soft light of the street lamps peer
through the gaps in the living room blinds.
The knob twists under my fingers and the door opens
suddenly, his figure emerging in a rush, arm sliding easily around my neck
Pushing me into the room, turn, let me down, then abruptly
rough drop to the floor
Arms pushed above my head
His face is so close that I can see his facial hair, up to
the glowing white skin, to his dark brows and brown hair falling over his eyes
“You stupid fucker!”
“Don’t call me names!” I try to firm my resolve, left leg
shaking.
“Shut up you stupid fucking cunt!”
It was hard to hear what he said then because I was oddly
aware of the way the carpet felt rough on my lower back where my shirt was
pushed up
And the mist of saliva as more words ripped out.
My lips and eyes scrunched up as two fat tears ran down the
sides of my face and I began to cry.
“Why are you crying!? Are you hurt? Did I hurt you?”
“No…It hurt my neck a little bit…I was just scared…”
More tears.
“You are so mentally weak!”
Continues on saying something that I vaguely know hurts.
“Did I hurt you?” he asks again.
His breath is warm; I don’t know why this surprises me.
Stern features looking down at my tear stained ones demand a
technical answer.
Quiet inhale, face turning to stone.
“No.”
“What?”
“No. I’m not hurt.”
The
hot sticky feeling and the throbbing in my nose makes me think that somewhere
in all this my nose ring bumped into the bottom of my nose.There was a end to the argument, which was forgotten the next day.
Fingers that kept smudging black mascara tears as I recalled the things he said, that I hovered and was a burden, making him miserable, a coward, that I tried to change him and thought I was better than I was...
"Something wrong?" he asks when I get home.
Quick smile, "No, I'm just tired. Long day of school."
Things smooth again,
Thoughts bouncing in my head, "I'm so ashamed of how I've behaved..."
"I shouldn't have been such a child..."
"He gets it more than I do..."
I'm not hurt, but it still makes me alternate between tears and chastising myself.
Self-doubt.
Questions.
But I love him...
How?
Shame.
And then
I can't believe this happened to me....
