Gloom

It’s gloomy outside, rain is battering the window. Flashes of lightning illuminate the sky, before falling silent and dark once more. A big, black cloud looms overhead.

The weather is as shitty as you.

I capture the scene through a lens, water running down glass in rivulets, like tears that run down my face. I daren’t turn the camera around, for fear of seeing your latest work of art. The purple beneath my eyes will fade soon, fade to nothing but pale skin. I’ll never forget.

I’ll never forget the crunching of bone, the searing pain. My flesh hued with the colours of the rainbow. It’s all too familiar. The way you look at me, as if I’m an inconvenience to you. It’s always my fault – I’m not pretty enough, or cool enough. I am never enough.

Like you have two faces, you’ll soon be on your knees begging for forgiveness. Feeding me lies. “It’ll never happen again, I’m so sorry.”

A vicious cycle that makes my head spin.

Makes me feel like I am nothing. Less than nothing.

Nothing but doom and gloom.

The gun feels cool against my hand, smooth and sleek and heavy. I point it at your head and I see fear in your eyes. The same fear that forever lived in mine. The power and control is palpable, hair on the back of my neck raised.

I weave the barrel through your hair, winding it around straw-coloured strands. The only light in the room bounces off your curls, and it could almost be pretty. I tug, and I feel a great satisfaction as you cry out in pain.

I snatch the gun back and your head snaps forward. The chair you’re tied to teetering on its hind legs before crashing to the ground. The butt of the gun connects with your cheek, the crunch of bone, the searing pain. I smile.

“If you loved me like you were supposed to, you would never have hurt me.”

You’re crying now.

I’m laughing now.

Rain hammers against the window and it’s almost deafening.

“The weather’s still as shitty as you are.”