Safety Net

I felt safe in his palm. I felt wanted. I knew I was loved, when he squeezed my hand so tight, as if I would run away if he didn't. What does it matter that his very palm in which I had secured my safety net, was the same in which he had used to burn the net to the ground? I longed for him when he was away. I craved his voice and tried to make it echo endlessly in my head. I remember the way I used to cling to his words like they were gospel. His gravel-like words that crunched from his cigarette smoke mouth and oozed into my thirsty ears. He was my everything. My world was bleak and empty without his touch. I was alone without him. I was too young. Love was a word that reverberated in my bones and made me feel alive. His green eyes were the color of Christmas trees with large black ornaments hanging in the middle of endless green. I remember long nights of staring into those eyes and feeling so elated to know that this was the love I'd been dreaming up inside my head for so many years. My friends gave me half warnings about how, something about him seemed off. He whispered words of their jealousy to me, swearing by God that they were just trying to steal me from him. I couldn't even begin to fathom why my friends would even try to do such a horrible thing. Didn't they care if we were happy?  How selfish could they be? Little by little, I stopped speaking with them. As time with him dragged on I felt like I was losing my sense of self.  Soon enough I didn't feel the bruises that fell from his hand like torrents of rain. I became so good at hiding them, no one even wasted precious breath to ask me if I was okay. Our life together was fight, abuse, make love, play pretend. I couldn't tell you when, why , or how, but there came a point when I realized I was completely dependent on his love. I craved his acceptance, I needed to have his heartbeat pressed against mine. I didn't care if he beat me everyday of my life, I loved him. I love him more then I'd ever have loved myself. I'd thought that his anger was just a silly phase and he would come to, he would wrap me in his arms and caress my hair. He'd hum sweet nothings into my ear as we floated back on the sea of endless carefree wonder. I'd get the happily ever after my hands had been clinging to. Unfortunately, when it comes to abuse, there is no happily ever after.

Reviews

[littlemiss56]

This piece had so much feeling as I read. Your writing and story flowed and I very much liked the ending where you write "Unfortunately when it comes to abuse, there is no happily ever after". Simply put and very powerful end.