Independent #8

I was never in this horrible of a relationship, it was more emotional for me so I transferred it into a physical thing. I think that people are more affected by that than mental abuse although the effect is vertually the same and can have the same outcome. So it's based on a past relationship but it is not a true recollection of evens. More of a what could have happened kinda thing.


Running. She was always running. Her fear controlled her life, dictated her actions, ruled her new relationship. Her fear of love, of commitment, of vulnerability. But mostly her fear of Rocky. That boy for whom she would have killed at one point. But not anymore. Not after it all.

“Where are you going tonight?” he asked innocently, sitting on her couch watching her meticulously groom herself.

“The Batcave,” she replied simply.

“What’s that?” he asked inquisitively.

“It’s this really awesome gothic club in the city. Me, Kim and Alex are going to meet a few of his friends there to celebrate Alex’s birthday.”

“Alex is going….” He stated, the tension in his voice rising.

Shit!

“I thought I told you, you can never see him! You’re not allowed to talk to him, see him, or even think of him!” he screamed in her face. Grabbing her shoulders he shoved her. Hard. Into her mirror, shattering it. She fell with the shards, slicing into her. She didn’t feel a thing. Not his heel digging into her stomach, his hands clenching her throat, his knee crushing her wrist until it snapped.

Help.

Hours later she lay naked on the cold floor of the bathroom, her blood pooling around her, tears streaming down her face.

“Kyra?”

No, no, no please leave me alone. Please go away.

“Oh my God! Kyra! What happened to you???”

Blinking through her tears she saw him. Alex, standing in the doorway, staring at her in horror.

Go. Go before he comes back.

She wanted to scream at him to run but her throat ached and burned. All she could do was lay her forehead on the floor and let her sobs shake her body and speak for her.

Without a word Alex knelt before her and wrapped his arms around her, soothing her, cradling her ever so gently.

“What the f***!!!!”

Oh no. God please no!

The rest is a blur. The fighting, cursing, yelling, the blood, all warped into a mess of emotions.

She stood in the cemetery staring down at the dirt at her feet.

“Alex Smith. July 14th, 1982- July 14th, 2007.”

Now almost a year later she still feared him. Though he is locked behind bars hundreds of miles away she froze at the name. He sent her letters professing his love, saying that they’d be together once he got out.

Aiden tried to calm her, protect her, make her feel safe in the home they made. But she could never forget. Never forget his blood soaking her as she lay helpless beneath him. The guilt consumed her, ate away at her.

The pills slowly, painlessly put her into a peaceful sleep.