Another fight

I should have waited (…) thought it would make little difference. Forgetting (…), no such thing as little.

(…) walking out. A stand. A statement (…) sabotaging (…)  He  (…) edgy all day (…)  punishing (…) he was ‘out of forgiveness’.

(..) I cried, and cried, and cried, begging forgiveness (…),  another train ride to that satellite town. (…) overnight bag (…) on foot to the closest spot to the station. (…)  on tap

(…) another familiar place, with an old school rock soundtrack that would have you imagine you were in nineties Camden, listening to an old school rock soundtrack. (…)  a couple of his local ‘not’ friends (…) swiftly dodging their attachment to pick up some bottles at a cornershop.

(…)  long train ride to another mate’s house….(…) walked into the suburbs of the suburbs. An okay party (…)

Winter, dark out (…). Woods (…)

(…) his temper lost, there was no going back.

I kept quiet, as my brain had been trained over the years to respond.Don’t make them angrier.

(…) behave…(…) humiliation (…)

Behave. Be still. Be a good girl.

(…)  he was right.

The tears (…),  the quiet rational mind waivers. (…) triggers are being triggered. The only way (…) will pass quietly (…)  bite down on the shame.

Behave

Running (…). Doors slammed (..) hole punched through drywall (…). (…) terrified, (…) bloodied fists, breaking his own nose. I want to help him. Too late (…) train. Lying in my bed I hear him downstairs, frantically rifling through kitchen drawers (…). Can’t breathe (…). (…)  only door with a lock is the bathroom, (…)  I sleep on the cold floor, waiting for storm to pass. (…), (…) breaking. (…) screaming.

I disconnect, dissociate. I am safe, I am not here.

Can’t be hurt if I’m not here.

Time passes. (…)  always passes

Morning light (…). He (…) subdued, crying for me to help him. I soften, I comfort (…).

(…) bitch!

(…) overnight bag…

I was missing London anyways.

 

 

 

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