Her Truth

The following conveys what axis True North is for the writer. This narration is a work of fiction that defines True North, and later transitions to the character forms that prevent hope from entering the axis point thereof. This work is to navigate in black and white, Shawn’s trauma and resilience.

What is True North? As defined by Naveah, from Tiny Pretty Things, True North is a point that centers a ballet dancer while performing on stage. This definition applies outside of the art form of ballet. “True North,” or my focal point, has always been external. Countless times I’ve tried to find my balance elsewhere. Bedrock in my mentor, sorority sister, a host of other women, and some men too. However, they were already occupied. The only one empty was me.

Empty of my own purpose and passion. I crave direction. There are shards of my essence everywhere, but it’s primary home lives in music. For instance:

There can be miracles if you believe.

Believe. The only word in the entire lyric that chills my core. Believe what?

The word, some seven letters long, is miles away from the turmoil inside. The truth is I know that I am not my mentor or anyone else. Once that’s stripped away who’s left. Rather, what’s left once their character is stripped away? An abyss.

This void is more of a dark gray typhoon. The chaos within builds a stronghold that prevents hope and belief from entering in. Anytime those twins come within a hair’s breadth of the surface, in an attempt to breach the door, the void widens delaying their entry. There is a guard dog awaiting them at the gate’s door.

As this pen continues to grace these pages, I smirk, deep in thought, striving to remember the last time I felt secure in being myself. Ha. Myself. That’s a laugh. Since arriving here, I’ve lost track of myself. Funny, this space, within, has a way of pulling me away from myself.

May I explain?

In short, there’s a story, a grandfather shares about wolves. The tale has two- one good and the other not. The point is this, I, like you, have a choice in which wolf to nurture and nourish. Either the one that I have known for a lifetime or the one that I recently met.

The wolf that I have known for years brings with her trauma and generational hurts. Mix those two with doubt passed from one body to the next, and what forms is an intellectual skeptic. Who later imprints with another toxic character that brings destruction to each corner of her world. Hence, the reason hope and belief have a hard time stabilizing True North.

There is some hesitancy in fully releasing myself into these pages, but I would be remiss if I didn’t try. Try to unfold my nakedness and catch a ray of sunshine. Freeing myself the guard dog’s control. Howbeit, that would require growing intimately with the wolf that I recently met.

He is a bringer of many gifts. Dawn bears qualities that trembles Dusk’s core. These qualities initiate a power struggle for the throne of my heart. Dawn carries gifts that come in the form of non-judgment, peace, love, longsuffering, forgiveness, patience, and a host of more. I must admit there is a growing fondness for Dawn.

With a gentle hand, that caress the curve of my spine, Dawn lifts me to new heights daily. His hand reassures me that it’s okay to fall apart because in the depth of the breakage there is healing. This healing forms a powerful breakthrough that ushers in with it absolution-wholeness. It’s my new aphrodisiac. The promise of fresh freedom lighting the tunnel’s end with my name etched at its exit. Or at least the blossoming of such freedom. In these moments, hope flickers promising rosebuds but dies on breath cue because it’s bound under Dusk’s control shamefully.

Dusk settles. He and I have been on this journey for quite some time now. We are toxic lovers twisted in passionate heat. I remember when we first met, I was a mere pup, stretching out beneath the moist dew ridden ground searching for a resting place. I captured his eye and leaning in his gaze deepen. His ebony smooth aura eclipsed the sun’s set as it kissed the horizon. He covered me from its warmth.

My, yes. I remember that introduction vividly. Initially, our encounter was nothing joyful, but lasting nonetheless. Dusk introduced himself formerly as pain; but not the physical kind at first. This kind of pain is the kind that leaves a mark the eye can’t detect nor the hand can touch.

Doe-eyed and innocent, I wasn’t healthy upon this initial greeting. Fresh from surgery, I was in a hospital. Groggy, big brown eyes fluttered open with excitement, I sat up eager to lay eyes on my True North; but she wasn’t in first sight. I arose eyes frantic searching wildly for her. A sudden cloud of panic seized me.

Where is she?

Where is my momma?

Time froze. I didn’t feel safe or secure which led me to conclude the worst.

She left me.

She left me alone.

Alone.

In a matter of moments, I felt forgotten and vulnerable all at once. Mere seconds was all he need to situate himself in me. Dusk rooted himself in my DNA and just like that he rerouted my focus.

However, this encounter was brief. My mother returned from her leave. Her momentary departure was to inform her mother that I was alright. Security and safety came pushing panic and pain back.

Funny, in that second he breached my walls. Dusk’s debut was indeed short, but effectively lasting. Before leaving, he vowed that he would be consistent and constantly present. True to his word, he has indeed upheld his oath.

Shortly thereafter, Dusk did return on three separate occasions. On each appearance, he brought with him beautiful black roses. On his third and final visit, during my grandfather’s homegoing service, Dusk gave me his pledge. He’d promised that we would be joined together. At the time, I disregarded his words; but soon he would remind me that our acquaintance would endure awhile.

Throughout my formative year, there would be peaks of joy here and there; but not much worth writing home about. The majority of that time was bland from what I choose to remember; however, I do know: as I grew, so Dusk grew too. At this juncture, Dusk became my identity. I no longer came into my life whole-complete. That is until I met him. Dawn.

Dawn is light that illuminates the darkness. He graced the fringes of my world precisely as things became interesting. At this point, my body began course correction. Attaining knowledge on the physicality of my external beauty, Dawn knocked at the door. Much like the sun’s rise beckons the wake of a new day, as does Dawn. Who brings with him challenges that reach beyond external exploits.

Unlike Dusk, Dawn’s entrance was small but bold. Liken unto a toddler, cute, playful, and rambunctious at times. He’s adorable. Dawn enjoys giving love; and yet he is patient while I learn how to give love in return. He treats me like a flower-delicate because he noticed the need for replotting the dried-out soil of my heart. As he labored, he noticed more than I intended to reveal. His glimpse saw beyond what the untrained eye bore witness to. He saw what loving Dusk had done to me.

Dawn and I have irregular runs. Intentional on my behalf as well as his. Today, Dawn and I met at Lakeview Park. He and I exchange pleasantries as usual and talk about surface matters for a short while. Before long, I allow myself the liberty to speak freely and frank. Dawn smiled, his face lighting up as our conversation turned from pleasant small talk to deeper more in-depth conversation.

Dusk is capable of holding a highly toxic posture, but I love him. He’s been there--here for me. Yes, yes, he can be abusive with language that shreds my heart to ruin; but he loves me. Dusk kept me close. Especially on nights where I knew I had no one, but him to cling to in this dark world. We have been through it all together.”

Pausing a moment, breathing in the deception of my words before I continued, “He wrapped me in blankets of truth. He is a gentleman. The only man who is good to me-outside of you that is. He loves me with an open palm and closed fist equally. No, doesn’t bring flowers anymore- he hasn’t since our youth. He does wash me with bloodstained words filled with raw salt. On occasion, he allows me space to sit and reflect on how good our love has grown.”

Dawn’s brow lifts in disbelief, but I continue.

“He feeds me bitter herbs and flat wine throughout winter and spring season. He loves me. Look, he isn’t that bad once you allow yourself to get to know and understand him.”

My tongue does what is now second nature, rushing to Dusk’s defense per usual. However, this time, the rebuttal is weak. Just hearing the truth underlying my defense for him is appalling, reckless, and ignorant even to my own ears. Be that as it may, there was no retraction in this argument. I double down sticking with the rhyme without reason.

Foolishly, I look up at Dawn’s face, and I know the truth. So does he. His face reveals sorrow and hurt; and yet, deeper still there is an unrelenting passion accompanying compassion in his eyes.

He sighs, taking in a deep breath, “Shawn, you’re stronger than this. You deserve healing and proper love. There is poison in your veins, and he has you sedated you with lies numbing your pain. He leads you on daily, shattering the essence of your beauty. Darling,” He awaits my eyes’ full attention, “look me in my eyes and tell that what you face is worth your surrender to continual dark desolate nights? I can sense the thirst for freedom at your core. The freedom to be you unapologetically. Darling, you’re worth that and far more to me.”

Pausing a moment, letting his words sink in, “if you will, indulge me? Allow me to help you.”

“Help me how?”

By this time, Dawn and I are sitting face to face. He gently covers my left hand with his. Out of habit, I recoil from his touch. Due, in part, to trauma; but mostly out of fear. What would Dusk do IF he knew? Dawn felt the tense set of my hand before it relaxed.

I know you’re afraid for multiple reasons; but the main reason, you’re afraid of who you are without him. That’s understandable, but if you will- allow me to expose who you will remain if you stay.

He takes his other hand, as he did with my left, he gently covers my right hand. Mindful of the tension in my yielding hands, Dawn rubs them to soothe the knotting muscles. Hands and heart at ease, he brings our hands together, ensuring that mine are secured beneath his, and then the magic unfolds. As Dawn continues stroking my hands, a glow sparks. I stare at our hands a moment before meeting his eyes.

As for your unspoken question, watch. The answer will expose the lies you desperately want to believe.

I did as he directed, watching as our story-Dusk and Shawn, unfolded. My hands in his, my life with Dusk appeared before us.

It was dark and brutal.

There I was, a bruised and bloody wreck. A swollen eye, split lip, plenty of cuts, scratches, and scrapes. Lying there in our bed of black satin sheets- bleeding, attempting to stifle my cries. I lay there wide awake, holding myself as he lay to my side fast asleep. Here he sleeps unbothered by the severity of my trauma. All of this for a simple exchange-a look! He again laid hands on me because of a harmless non-flirtatious look between Dawn and me. This time he didn’t use restraint in his assault. He said there was no need. That I would learn my place, but until then it would remain this way.

My eyes watering, but I continued watching the reels of my life.

Dusk rained down rapid insults, as I stare at him bewildered. His speech demeaned me, referring me to a lude and loose woman. Then he smiled, coldly, as though a hint of kindness entered his mind; but that wasn’t his intention to soothe. Dusk’s words coursed over my body like molten acid, ‘you’re nothing without me and never will be anything other than what I allow you to be. You’re merely my plaything. No one wants you, but me.”

He raised his hand, reflectively, I flinched from his touch. This time, he doesn’t strike, but instead gently rubs my still bruised cheek and whispers, “I made, molded, and will break you.”

Dawn’s eyes searched my face for a signal to continue or let it be.

I shake my head in response to his unasked question. Tears cascading down my cheeks, I horsely whisper, continue.

The final reel was viler than the last. This night, I refused to lie with Dusk; but refusal to his ear only meant yes, and after all, I was his to do with what he chose. Enraged, he grabbed my wrists, roughly dragging me behind him. I broke away from his grasp, but I wasn’t quick enough.

“You’re making it worse, dear heart.”

Gathering me again, he tossed me over his shoulder and carried me to his room. Once inside, Dusk threw me on the bed. After locking the door, he paused, watching me with a lustful gaze. I felt his heated stare hungrily peruse my body’s frame. Time slowed to a crawl as he made his way to me. In vain, I again managed to clear enough distance to delay what was imminent. Back pinned against the wall, all I could do was pray that I was imagining this assault. Unfortunately, it wasn’t.

The reality was my dress became scraps. Worse still, Dusk sheath himself inside me. Pain and agony tore at my core. Inwardly, I screamed and fought back, but in reality, I was pinned under his weight without an escape. It felt as though this torture would last for eternity, but mercy came. After producing the sounds that he desired, the tide rolled in and he rolled off of me. As he slept, I lay there bitterly weeping.

The atmosphere is heavy with tension and tears at the end of this revelation. Dawn spoke, “Shawn, that life you’ve led, you don’t deserve. We both know that. Shawn…”

Lost in my own world. Inhaled. Then I fixed my eyes on True North. I meet, Dawn’s eyes and breathe. “You’re right, where do we go from here?”