Baby, I'm Broken & Yours

The truth about finding out what you were afraid to know.

 

The ten hours of sleep I've had this week are starting to show up in my face. My dark circle gang is in full force. My red eye brigade. My pale skin shin-dig. Oh it's a party alright, just check your coat in and get yourself a drink. Speaking of drinks, why don't you drink to my health? My dropping blood count is a good thing to toast too. Or my rapid decrease in iron. How about those palpitations in my heart? Those don't get toasted enough to satisfy my hunger. But drink up and do please enjoy the show. It's going to be a spectacular waste of time. But if I'm going to rape your time you're going to enjoy it and not know the difference so...hey, that drink of yours is looking skinny, let me fill your glass.

My fingernails buried into his neck. I was hurting him and he wasn't saying anything. Just letting me cry. My back to his wall, his hands around me putting enough pressure onto me so I knew if I collapsed he'd catch me. When I started punching him and screaming he kept calm. He drug me down to the floor with his body. The more I freaked out the stronger he became and his hands didn't hurt.

"If I ask you what happened, you wouldn't tell me would you?" his voice like a garden snake in my ear.
Spooning on the floor, my arm stretched out toward the window. My thoughts on flying out. flying out into a grey sea of concrete.
"If i told you what happened you'd be right. I cant let you be right about me...I can't have you figure me out."
And as I'm speaking I'm digging my grave. I'm building the fire.
I heard him exhale. His hand started rubbing my hour glass side.
"What happened?"
"Let me ask you a question, Chase."
"Okay. What?"
"Did you hear it?"
"Did i hear what?"
"Did you hear me break when you did it."
"No. But I hear you breaking now..Tara...What happened?"
"Nothing. I just became who I am. Tara.Lee."

I turned over to him. Behind him was the wreckage of his hotel room. I don't remember too much of it. I remember throwing the vase and the lamp at the walls, right after each other. I remember the million little pieces bounching off the wall, that mocking wall, like nothing could hurt it. I remember punching chase in the mouth. Just one right hook masterpiece. His hands with blood and my hair stuck to my face. When he tried to get me to lay down I pulled at the mattress and tipped it off the frame. The bedding becoming entrails to this beautiful cotton monster. His split lip is swollen and glistening at me now, like a christmas bulb.

What he doesn't know is I don't know if I can hate him as much as I should. Everything he's done to me is something I deserve now. I deserve his three pill cocktail of death and his bedside engraving. I deserve his dockside raping. His Iowa kiddknapping. His open palmed slaps. His gun to temple threats. His knife to throat tongue slips. I deserve his hands on my body. I deserve his hands sifting through my skirts and guts.

Standing up is hard because I'm bruised from breaking everything. There are bloody fingerprints on my face from his thumbs on my face.

Looking in the mirror i see parker laying in bed, wasting. His bruised neck and dead beach eyes looking out the window. I picture what's in his head. I picture all the memories he's watching inside of his like a silent movie...

He doesn't want to talk to me...he doesn't want to do anything...

And there is nothing i can do.