A Story That Can't Repeat

Trigger warning: physical/sexual abuse, pregnancy loss.

Remember how tightly your hands would grip my throat?

Whispering through your teeth that you were going to kill me.

I'd blackout from lack of oxygen, only to wake, alive, to you on top of me.

I would much rather be dead.

I lay here while you fuck me, using me for your own sick pleasure.

I don't fight, I tell you to stop, but I don't dare to say it loud enough for you to hear.

You finish, finally.

Grabbing my face to kiss me, not forgetting to tell me that you love me, you get up and go about your day as if this is normal.

While I would wash myself up, swallow my emotions and slap a fake smile on my face carefully going about my day trying not to piss you off again.

The first time I met your mother, she smiled at me but it didn't reach her eyes.

I recall the look of worry on her face, her eyes holding back tears and words left unsaid.

Her and I talked over coffee and cookies while you slumped silently on the couch too invested in whatever was on your phone.

You got up and headed outside to smoke a cigarette, taking your time.

That's when our previous conversation ended, and your mother warned me about you.

She spoke softly and quietly, afraid of you hearing her, begging me to leave you.

Wiping the tears from her eyes, I could feel her heart break a little.

I didn't take her warning seriously, but I did build a strong relationship with her.

I met you via the Internet.

The dangers of meeting people you don't know in real life is kept no secret.

I was well aware of horrible things that could happen and I was not worried about my safety.

Without thinking twice, I got in my car and drove down a backroad surrounded by cornfields and pulled into your dark driveway.

I should have stayed home that night, I should have never met you, I was just so lonely the dangers were worth the risk.

Maybe I enjoyed the rush I felt being so reckless, Maybe I didn't give a fuck about myself anymore.

Maybe I was hoping for the worst.

We took no time to get to know each other, immediately jumping into a relationship.

A week of knowing each other, spending sleepless nights full of meaningless sex, you keeping your mask perfectly in place portraying someone you weren't, and I giving you all the love I had inside me, we found ourselves moved in together.

Red flags visible the moment I turned my apartment keys into my landlord, it was already too late to turn back.

Days turned into weeks, the weeks into months.

The make up I once wore to boost my self confidence, was instead wore to mask the bruises you left.

The bed I once slept peacefully in before I met you was now where I lay awake at night convincing my feet to walk out the door and run as far as I could away from you.

Why didn't I just leave?

Your grandparents cabin surrounded by beautiful trees and a lake was my favorite place to go.

I loved the weekends we spent there, and I loved the man you pretended to be when your grandmother was around.

I wish you could have been that man all the time.

But when the weekend would end, and we would all part paths, you'd turn back into the monster I was afraid of, the real you.

Your mother and sister often came by to visit while you were at work.

Had you ever knew, you wouldn't have been pleased.

They were also afraid of you.

They would come, always offering to help me pack and leave you.

They would beg, telling me to love myself, protect myself to leave.

I always said no, tried to convince them it wasn't as bad as they thought.

They never gave up on me.

Do you realize how much I loved you, despite all the hurt you caused me?

I'm sure you don't care.

If only things had been different, we could have been a family, and lived happy lives together.

I was pregnant and I could no longer allow you to hurt me. I told your mom I was ready to leave and she helped.

I hid the fact I was carrying your child inside me, I was worried about how you'd react.

It wasn't until I lost the baby that I contacted you to inform you.

You claimed to be devastated, but do people like you really have feelings?

You begged me to come "home," promising change.

Five years later and you still reach out to check on me, attempting to pick up where we left off.

You are a part of my story that long to forget.

I want to bury what we had, the memories, the pain, I want it all buried.

If only you could leave it all behind too.

It is time to accept I won't ever be coming back, to let me go and officially move on.

I was your prisoner, but I no longer am.

You're taught me a lot, you've made me scared of people I meet, cautiously going forward with friendships or relationships.

But it's time we let go now.

I won't let go of who our child would/could have been, but the rope holding us together is extinct and it's time you realize and quit holding grip onto what's been long gone.