Good Morning.
Song of the Sparrow
I don’t feel it anymore.
But I remember the way I felt when I walked in our bedroom, the one he filled with luxurious things as soon as the money started pouring in, just the same way he told me it would. My finger was still naked and the ring he promised me was nowhere to be found.
Gerard wasn’t the sort of man who would give me his word just to break it when my back was turned. At least, he wasn’t when I first met him.
My hand curled around the doorknob and I pushed the door open, muffled breathing emitting through the doorframe. And when I looked up over the blur of sheets I felt like dying. It was so warm in there and my chest felt like someone had dumped kerosene on my skin.
To the naked eye, I must have looked but stung.
To the inner soul, I was gutted, gagged, knife-through-my-chest and beaten, blood matting my hair, fingers clipped, chest savagely scarred, lips decayed. Left to die watching the one I loved mutilating my body through archaic disrespect. My trust was gone along with my pride. Like I was naked on a stage and everyone was watching me in self-humiliation and nobody cared.
My mind found the words before my heart did.
“What are you doing?”
It became hard to breathe, especially when he stopped what he was doing and looked over at me standing in the doorway with a suitcase at my side, still stressed from the weary business trip I’d been on for the weekend.
Walking in on the on you love slipping through your fingers with another woman was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done, one of the worst things I’ve ever felt, one of the hardest things to forgive.
But I swear to God, I’ll never forget.
Some blonde girl looked up at me through her big blue eyes. Wrapped up in my sheets, wrapped up in my lover. Guilt strewn across her features. All she could do was watch as I set my bag down and pursed my lips.
My voice trembled.
“Get out.”
The words were like tiny daggers and I hope to God they stabbed her until she felt the pain she caused me. But somehow I knew that words were like a breath of air compared to the giant knife stabbed straight through my back, dragged down my spine and twisted through the flesh.
It still hurts.
But I don’t feel it anymore.
But I remember the way I felt when I walked in our bedroom, the one he filled with luxurious things as soon as the money started pouring in, just the same way he told me it would. My finger was still naked and the ring he promised me was nowhere to be found.
Gerard wasn’t the sort of man who would give me his word just to break it when my back was turned. At least, he wasn’t when I first met him.
My hand curled around the doorknob and I pushed the door open, muffled breathing emitting through the doorframe. And when I looked up over the blur of sheets I felt like dying. It was so warm in there and my chest felt like someone had dumped kerosene on my skin.
To the naked eye, I must have looked but stung.
To the inner soul, I was gutted, gagged, knife-through-my-chest and beaten, blood matting my hair, fingers clipped, chest savagely scarred, lips decayed. Left to die watching the one I loved mutilating my body through archaic disrespect. My trust was gone along with my pride. Like I was naked on a stage and everyone was watching me in self-humiliation and nobody cared.
My mind found the words before my heart did.
“What are you doing?”
It became hard to breathe, especially when he stopped what he was doing and looked over at me standing in the doorway with a suitcase at my side, still stressed from the weary business trip I’d been on for the weekend.
Walking in on the on you love slipping through your fingers with another woman was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done, one of the worst things I’ve ever felt, one of the hardest things to forgive.
But I swear to God, I’ll never forget.
Some blonde girl looked up at me through her big blue eyes. Wrapped up in my sheets, wrapped up in my lover. Guilt strewn across her features. All she could do was watch as I set my bag down and pursed my lips.
My voice trembled.
“Get out.”
The words were like tiny daggers and I hope to God they stabbed her until she felt the pain she caused me. But somehow I knew that words were like a breath of air compared to the giant knife stabbed straight through my back, dragged down my spine and twisted through the flesh.
It still hurts.
But I don’t feel it anymore.
♠ ♠ ♠
This chapter was actually painful to write and I almost started crying because even though I've never been in this exact situation, the emotions I tried to get out here were raw. It still hurts.