It was a numbingly cold Friday night; a brisk breeze blew disrupting the trees with no sight of sun. The tips of my fingers started to chill and my body shivered, possibly from the cold though it could also have been the fear. I stalled on the doorstep contemplating if I should never go back or go in to tell him I was never coming back. My sweaty palms reached out to the frosty skin biting doorknob while I opened the door, my heart felt like metal sinking in my chest. I look up the dark stairway where his tall silhouette stood, the dirty blonde hair a clutter. As I dragged my way up the discolored uneven steps, the paralyzing stench of marijuana seemed to slap me in the face. My mind was collapsing with overwhelming thoughts as I tried to fixate on the jagged words gushing out of his mouth. “Where were you”, “What’s wrong with you”, “Do what I’m telling you to”. I stood in the doorway without saying a word as he gripped my arm yanking me into the room. My heart plummeted deeper than before as I tried to extract the words from my mind.
I am shoved onto the bed where I pull myself up against the solid wooden headboard. As he stood towering over me I managed to force the coarse words out of my throat. “We’re done.” His smile twisted into a harsh furious frown, his eyes bloodshot red from the drugs and added anger. I closed my eyes struggling to evade his bitter and manipulating words. “I care about you, I will protect you… People already think you’re a slut… Don’t make it worse for yourself… Nobody will believe you”. As I stand up to leave he blocked the doorway with a harsh insensitive look on his face. Seizing my arm with a firm grip he forced me away from the door. Struggling to escape, I stared into his ice cold blue eyes pleading him to simply let go, to fix the all the wreckage in me that he created. He looked me straight in the eyes, took that chance, and threw it away like it was nothing. My body burned with his touch, but not in a good way. My throat became tight, my body numb, my mind blank, my chest heaving with an indescribable dull pain.
I was finally able to get the strength to stand up and stumble my way out of the room, down the uneven steps, and out the front door. I waited on the curb in the frigid night for my mom to salvage me as one does at a junkyard. I rose onto my unsteady feet and yanked open the rigid plastic door handle. As we drove home I sat there in utter silence, my mind overflowing with emotions of regret, pain, and heartbreak.
This burden is seared into my mind and there’s no getting rid of it. I am still learning the lesson from this, perhaps it is moving on from regret, or understanding that it wasn’t my fault. I get asked why I’m avoiding hands which frighten me, even if they have the purest intentions. It takes me back to when I layed there with apprehension, begging for him to stop, trying to put an end to the misery.