Time Never Forgets

     It was unmemorable in the beginning. I came out as usual to assume my position to his left. The only offbeat thing I took notice of was his lack of acknowledgement of my entrance. I slipped into my seat and powered up my afternoon hours with still no stirring from his side of the room. The screen booted up and there in the middle of my desktop was an icon that loomed darkness. "Open me" was the ever-ominous title. I knew better than that.

      I glanced to my right to find him glancing back at me with nothing but coldness in his glare. "Go ahead, open it." Still frozen to my mouse, I realized that there was no point in not. He had put the icon there. He knew already what its contents were. I never imagined one double click would ruin my perspective on life. 

     A video populated my screen and upon its playing I immediately closed it and deleted the file, Hoping that that all he saw was the seconds I did just then. Then he was looming over my shoulder. Placing a hand on my own as I attempted to access the trash folder to ensure the files disappearance. I was too late.

     "No, let watch it." He said with a sliver of doom lacing his words. It was the last thing I wanted to do, not with him so close. He reopened the video and the show was back on. That is what it was, a show. For no one in particular but now suddenly, it was a show for him. I overtook the mouse, bile crawling up my throat. I couldn't believe this was happening and again, attempted to delete the file. He was stronger than me, as always. He snatched the mouse back as I recoiled from his touch and the next words he spoke sent me reeling into the darkest parts of myself. "wait," he crooned as he slid the time bar with the pointer, "this is where it gets really good."

     My heart wretched itself from its place. In one sentence I knew that he had watched this many times. How many was an unnecessary question that swam in my head. How many times did he watch this? I stood up, jarring him from my side. Without a word I was leaving. He tried to block me in the little room and with some summoned strength I didn't know I had, I shoved him back into his desk. The shock was written on his face smeared with something else.

     Without a word I gathered up my shoes and began putting them on. He stood before me again. "Where are you going?"

     "Im leaving."

     "No, your not. He wouldn't budge from my way. I shoved him again but not as hard. I didn't want to touch him. Not ever again.

     "Move, Im leaving." Still no move from him. I wouldn't lay another hand on him, I couldn't. I wanted him as far away from me as possible but that wouldn't happen without touching. So I did the next best thing. I hit myself. Hard and in the mouth. Another wave of shock met his face. I hit myself again, harder that time. He wouldn't stand there and watch, I knew, and he didn't. He left the room. 

     I could have left too, but where. We lived so far from anything and who would take me in. I had run away before, I already knew my options were slim. I was trapped with or without him standing in my way. Out of anger over my cowardice I hit myself again, and again, and again until my bottom lip was numb and I tasted blood. It was black and blue but not as bruised as my spirit. 

     How many times did he watch it?