Ash Hill: Work in Progress

One

I was awoken by the streams of light peeking through the blackout curtains. I knew it was about time to get out of bed, but I found myself fighting the idea as I did everyday now. I just wanted rest, peace. Last night was a blur, I'd angered Andrew again. He'd returned my smart retorts with brutal words. The threats felt heavy in my sleep-deprived brain.

"You're nothing without me. No one wants you!"

I grasped at my temples, begging the replays to stop as they began.

"You're a liar, just like your mother. You'll never be any better than them."

The foul names now paraded in my head like a chant- or rather, a curse. I felt him shift and my body stiffened. I froze just like I had last night, I felt myself distance from reality. Quickly, I felt like an observer of my body, aloof, objective. Here, I was safe. Here, the words felt less like screams and more like echoes.

My alarm was about to go off as a reminder to drag myself out of bed. I needed to snap back- it was safe. After all, he wasn't even awake. I moved my body without really even feeling it. Sliding my feet to the floor and grabbing my phone. I shuffled, heavy and silent to the door. I turned the knob and slowly opened the door just enough to fit through. Then, I turned the knob slowly and ever-so-gently swung the door back in place.

I was out.

But I was not free.

I pulled myself together; a smart outfit, light makeup, curled hair, fake smile. I was ready for my day of selling the lies of my life.

Behind my fake smile and kind demeanor I felt immeasurably broken. Nothing made me feel more alone than the fact that everyone bought the lie I told, hook, line, and sinker.

Was this my story?

Wasn't this always my story?

I wanted to declare no, and throw my flag into the Earth, to make a brave declaration that I would not tolerate it anymore. I'd made that promise to myself many times before. I'd broken that promise just as many times.