A low
chuckle over the inaudible sizzle
Of
cigarette on skin
The
pain shoots up her arm
Zings
over her shoulder
Bullets
upwards and downwards
To her
head
To her
heart
And a scream forms in her gut
Rapidly
rises with the bile
The
throat constricts
But just
before it is released, she swallows it.
She
swallows it and turns
To look
into the bloodshot eyes
Of her
sociopath lover
Grinning
Reveling
in her pain.
Reveling in her pain he asks, again and again
"Who
is it?" "Who is it?"
"Who
is it that you are sleeping with?"
The crumb
on his lip twitches each time he speaks.
Numbed.
Crushed.
Pulverized.
Her
silence the only defence.
His
insane eyes gaze at her burning skin
His
fingers lift the cigarette
A long
drag and then smoke fills the car
Then,
slowly, steadily, the burning end moves
To her
arm again…
She bites
her lip
Pushes
her head back on the headrest
Braces
her insides for the assault
And
prays…
For
death.
***********
***********
And now, a decade later
the little scars on her arm
Sit
benignly gazing
Up at the
scars inside.
such men actually exist, right? Always takes me by surprise......and there are women who actually take all the shit for that long, right? Always takes me by surprise....worth a thought - how limited their insecurities make them....
ReplyDeleteThe writing itself is brilliant....the imagery vivid and raw, and the release,or its lack, palpable
Yes, such men exist. And sometimes, the women are trapped and not necessarily acquiescing to this treatment... just waiting to escape... This one did.
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