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“I’m so mad, I just might kill you.” Spit from his words lands on my face and the heat from his breath burns the side of my cheek.
Fear.
There’s a difference between simply being afraid of something, or someone, and being consumed with fear. Fear has roots. Roots that rapidly stretch, wind, and grow, choking out everything in their path. They embed themselves into the smallest of places and anchor into the largest. They wrap around all that is good and crush the life right out of it, leaving strength and courage in crumbles.
Fear is paralyzing.
It’s in this moment, I truly fear for my life. I never thought Chris would hurt me, yet here we are, and now I’m faced with the possibility of death.
The roots suck out the warmth, and cold barbs sweep down my body. My heart races with acute understanding. It too fears that it might soon stop.
Unwanted tears silently escape my eyes, slip across my skin, and land on the floor.
“You know that you and I are fated to be together.” He shifts his weight and an unwanted groan of pain escapes me as my raw shoulder and knees press into the floor. “Is this how you want to spend your life? Running from me, making me angry? Why? Why do you do things like this?” he yells.
Grabbing me by the hair, he yanks backward and a blood curdling scream ricochets off the hallway walls. Slamming my head back to the floor, a crack from my face resonates through my ears. Blinding pain and tiny fuzzy flashes dance behind my closed eyes. I try to blink them away as my stomach rolls from dizziness.
The familiar, tangy, metallic taste of blood pools at the side of my mouth. My heavy tongue runs across my lips and teeth trying to find its exit point.
“Do. Not. Move. Do. Not. Make. One. Sound,” each word staccato and snarled. His fingers reclamp onto the back of my neck, the tips of his fingers mashing my windpipe.
Closing my mouth, I grit my teeth and suck in air through my nose. Bubbles of snot catch in my throat and I cough, desperate for another breath. Doesn’t he realize he’s choking me?
Roughly, while still pushing my head down on the floor with one hand, his fingers from the other grab the zipper to my dress, and yank on it to pull it down. The fabric on the front side of me doesn’t give and cuts into my skin.
Feeling the cold air hit my skin, more tears leak from my eyes. I know what his intentions are, and if I could just relax and allow him to get this over with, things will be so much easier. But I just can’t. How do I willingly accept this? How do I get out of this? What can I do?
Pain in my shoulder pulls me back to the moment—he’s bitten me, hard.
“Chris,” I cry out. “Please stop.” Sobs break free; I can’t stop them even if I try. What did I ever do to deserve this?
He grunts at my request and bites me again. “I always did love the way you taste.”
In an instant, I’m flipped over, and he pins both of my arms over my head with one hand.
Opening my eyes, I stare at the blackened image of Chris above me. My ears start to ring, replacing all the sounds around me, and things begin to move in slow motion as my mental awareness shuts off the ripping of my clothes and the bite of the cold air on my skin. I know he’s moving and doing things, but I don’t know what. What I see is his hair as it falls over his forehead and sways as he moves. I see the outline of his shoulders, shoulders that I’ve hung onto countless times while dancing, riding on his back, playing chicken in the pool, and even while he kisses me. Random memories flash, and I focus of those in hopes of not making new ones. In many ways, I’m having an out of body experience as he forcefully shatters my soul and devastates me in every way.
Light floods the hallway, blinding me, and again, I close my eyes. I don’t want to see him. I don’t want to remember him. I don’t want to remember any more of this than I already will. But someone’s here, I know it! Someone’s turned the lights on. Keeping them closed, I wait.
And wait.
And wait.
Floating.
That’s what I feel like. His weight is no longer on top of me, and somewhere in the back of my head I hear men’s voices. The floor thumps with what feels like dancing, or scuffling, either way it’s the same as when Chris charged in after me.
Fear. It chokes me.
Not again!
Please don’t let him touch me again.
Screams.
Piercing.
Desperate.
