I wish I had killed myself when I remembered everything. I wouldn’t be in this situation; huddled into a ball in a pool of my own blood. There was no light in the small, cold, dingy high school janitor closet. I sat there, behind a small shelf, hearing nothing but my raspy, heavy breathing. I tried my hardest to stay quiet, focusing on the noises I can hear outside. It was proving difficult with every passing second because of this pounding headache. I don’t remember how many times I got hit on my head, but there was blood gushing from different points of my body. And from the looks of the blood I’ve lost, I knew I wasn’t going to last much longer. An eerie sense of dread washed over me, cause I knew he was roaming the empty school hallways looking for me.
I began to feel lightheaded from the blood-loss, but I knew I had to get myself out of here. I knew there would be no chance of escape if he found me. Even though I had managed to slip by him multiple times today, he seemed to always catch up to me, no matter where I was. I didn’t bother trying to figure out how that was possible; answering that question was the last thing on my mind.
There was one thought that weighed heavy on my mind. Why was he doing this to me? What also bothered me, was that I remembered this happening before, seven years ago on my birthday. But I didn’t recall these memories until a few days ago…
Why did my mind chose to erase those violent, gory, painful moments from my past? Why did my mind choose to remind me days before my birthday? How do I know this won’t happen again?
Clearly, he forgot as well. He acted normal days before; he made plans for dinner and dancing, much to my surprise. Either he was unaware of past events, or he was hiding his darker intentions. I was such a mess that I refused to leave my closet, let alone stay in a room with him. He kept asking if there was anything wrong, but I couldn’t find the words to tell him. He begged me to talk to him, but I couldn’t trust his words and actions because I knew it would change.
And though I love him, I don’t understand why I stayed with him for 14 years? What could’ve possessed me to allow this type of abuse to go on?
My vision began to fade, and the once suffocating room, began to grow cold. Though my mind was telling me that I had to move, my body was telling me differently. It was as if my body was accepting its fate, falling numb the closer he got. My mind couldn’t fight the sensation of defeat and strange familiarity. I knew deep down this would happen again if I didn’t leave...yet there was a part of me that felt...
I could hear the sound of heavy footsteps as it echoed against the dark, empty hallways. I didn’t bother questioning how he found me. No matter where I went, I knew he would always find me.
I managed to stand, though proving difficult and painful. I stumbled a bit, knocking over a few empty cans, and the small shelf along the way. I knew he heard me; I knew he would find me in a matter of seconds. I flung open the door, slamming it against the outside wall. I quickly made my way out of the closet; praying that my legs wouldn’t fail me. As I did, I felt someone punch me on the back of my head, forcing me onto the floor. I felt a warm gush of blood at the side of my face, pooling underneath me. My vision went black for a few minutes as my head began to pound from the continued onslaught.
“YOU BROUGHT THIS UPON YOUR DAMN SELF!” He roared. My ears began to ring at the sound of his voice. He was mad, but I couldn’t figure out why.
“Please...please…” I tried begging. I was barely crawling, unsure of what direction I was heading. I felt another kick; this time I heard a few bones break. The intense, sharp pain spread quickly throughout my body. Breathing became more like an impossible task; the more I tried, the more blood I tasted. I knew that I would soon drown from my blood and unwavering fear of him. No matter what I did, or how I moved, the pain consumed every inch of my body. It felt like I was constantly being shocked; my body pulsating from the assault. There was no way of escaping this...I was going to die.
Then I felt nothing, just the cold breeze hitting my disfigured body. Screams and loud crashes rang through the dark, empty hallways. A single, faint light pierced through the pending dark abyss.
“Get her out of here!” I heard someone yell. I felt the warm hands of a total stranger as they lifted me up from the floor. I felt my body crumble into a painful heep in his arms.
The pain continued to intensify, until it was nothing more than a prickly, cold sensation washing over my body. I felt myself become heavy, almost lifeless, as this stranger carried me outside. Despite the damage inflicted onto my body, the real pain was coming from elsewhere. It was coming from knowing that I would never understand what had happened. I would never understand how we got to this point. Why did I just remember this happening years ago? What did I do or say to make him treat me this way? The weight of my thoughts hurt more than the physical pain I felt.
A whirl of red and blue lights engulfed my weakened vision. As my vision turned black, I suddenly became aware of a scary thought. If I survived this...I knew we would end up in the same place in seven years...
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