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Entangled Mind

Trigger Warning: Abuse/Domestic Violence

I couldn’t think straight. All I could hear was noise. He was yelling and grabbing me, pushing me aside. But he was careful not to leave a mark. Always careful. Always finding some loophole to get around what he considered physical abuse. And all I could think was, What did I do wrong? I had upset him again. It was a daily occurrence really.

My head started to sting from where he pulled my hair. Then the pounding came from being slammed against a wall. I still couldn’t understand anything he was saying. Gesturing at me violently with accusatory eyes seeing right through me.

“I don’t understand,” was all I could muster. That was the wrong thing to say, because I found myself on the floor soon after. All I could feel was the coolness of the tiles against my skin as I drifted off into darkness.

I woke up unable to move. My body ached and everything was blurry. There was no movement, and no sound in the room. How did I get into bed, and why am I only partially dressed? Before I could think he came into the room, a cup water in his hand.

“Good morning, baby,” was his greeting. “I brought you some water.” I could barely sit up, so he came and assisted me, holding the glass as I timidly took a sip. “Drink more. You aren’t feeling well.” I did as I was told, confused by his warm tone, then lay back onto the now cool pillow. He closed the blinds, making the room completely dark and tucked me in. “You should sleep more,” he quietly whispered to me as he gently kissed my forehead. “You had a long night. I’m going out, taking the car. I’ll be back in a couple hours.”

I closed my eyes, and wondered if all that had happened was just a nightmare, my imagination gone off the deep end. I moved my body and knew I was not imagining things. My head was pounding, and my neck was stiff. The rest of my body felt like it had been to hell and back, and my thighs were sore, as though I’d been thoroughly fucked. Not again, I breathed as tears threatened to tear away at the thread of doubt I had somehow conjured in my mind.

Slowly drifting back into sleep, the memories of the night crept into my foresight. My body started to shake uncontrollably as the tears began their onslaught. I needed to get out, but my body rebelled. I could not move. Who can I call? Oh, I forgot. He has my phone. My mind and soul were exhausted, so I gave into restless slumber.

“You’re still asleep!?” The anger in his voice was evident. Didn’t he tell me to rest? I nodded, squinting my eyes at the sudden brightness in the room. I felt his weight on the bed next to me, and heard his ragged breathing as he drew closer. My eyelids tightened shut hoping this was all part of the nightmare, and soon I would wake up. “Bitch, did you hear me?” He shook me. My eyes grew wide, and I whimpered as he took off what clothing I did have on, and proceeded to fuck me.

It was more than painful, because I was bone dry. He maliciously whispered, “Come on, let daddy in. Be a good girl,” as I tried to find my voice, but not even a sigh could escape me. His weight was not only crushing my body, but also my spirit. My body rebelled, trying to deny the onslaught.

“Let me in. Be daddy’s whore.” I blacked out. Those words were somehow deeply ingrained in my mind that it set off a switch, and my body became his. The little control I did have was gone . I was numb to every touch, deaf to every vulgarity. When he found his release, he kissed me full on the mouth, and told me how I’d been a good girl. I had nothing left, so I just lay there, limply, heavily, almost as though I were dead.

I could hear the rustle of his clothes, and his heavy steps in the hall. The stream of water from the shower was deafening as I came back to life. I curled into a ball, and wept as he cleansed himself. The guilt and shame weighed me down further. Why couldn’t I just let him have what he wanted? It never occurred to me that it shouldn’t have happened.

The rest of the day was a blur. I’m sure we went out, ran errands or what not. But I was dazed, walking through the motions, not really aware of anything. When we were at the gym, my mind was more muddled than usual, and that didn’t sit well with him.

“Who the fuck are you looking at?” He was in my face, and suddenly I realized what was going on. I shook my head not understanding what he was asking. “You’ve been over here for too long. Who the fuck are you trying to get to notice you?”

“No one,” I sighed and closed my eyes.

“Bitch, don’t lie to me,” the venom in his words, and the daggers in his eyes indicated that I would not win this fight. I glanced around the room trying to find the person he believed was the target of my attention, but found no one. “Stop looking for him, you fucking cunt.”

I bowed my head and prayed this would end soon. We left quickly. It was a cold night, and I had forgotten my sweater. When we got home, he locked me outside, instructing that I sit in front of the door to think about what I’ve done.

That’s what I had become. His pathetic dog. Being left out in the dead of night when I’ve done something bad. Being beaten and fucked when he was in a bad mood. But when he loved me, he loved me fully and completely.

“Are you ready to fucking answer me?” He yelled through the door.

“Yes,” my voice was timid as the door cracked open.

“Don’t act like a fucking whore and expect me to want to be with you,” he angrily pulled me inside. “I have other girls asking me out, wanting to be with me all the time. You have no one. You’ve trapped me in this, so you better start treating me nice. Or you’ll see what happens,” his voice was threatening, and my body gave out. I fell to the ground, and I couldn’t stop the tears from coming.

“Stop being so fucking dramatic. It’s the same thing over and over again with you. Just stop being a bitch, you fucking whore.”

“I’m not a whore.” I gritted through my teeth.

“What was that?” He stood over me as I cowered further. I couldn’t say anything else. I had lost this battle already. I had nothing left in me to fight. “Get up, bitch.”

With the little strength I had, I pulled myself to my feet. My head still down, but somehow the tears stopped. My breathing was short, and I was scared of what would happen. He was unpredictable, so I had to prepare myself for anything. As he lifted his hands, my body tensed. It was instinct at this point, and so I braced myself for the rough night ahead.

“I’m sorry,” his voice was gentle, and his touch was light. “I love you.” He kissed my forehead, and drew me into a deep embrace. I began to cry again, not because of his words, but because of the mind fuck that he was playing.

He used my body again that night. And I let him. I didn’t know any better because in that moment he loved me. This is what I want, isn’t it? He found his release, then cuddled close to me. I found no rest that night, and lay awake as I listened to his steady breathing.

This is my life. Hating every bit of it, but believing it’s all I deserved. There was no escape from it.

“Go to sleep,” he yawned. I closed my eyes, but sleep never came that night. It didn’t come most nights. Just on rare occasions, when my mind was too exhausted from the angriest of storms. But not this night. This night was spent analyzing the entire day, and what I could’ve done to be nicer, or be a good girlfriend. Everything I was doing was wrong, and I needed to be better.

Be better so he wouldn’t become so angry with me. Better so I wouldn’t have reasons to cry anymore. Better so he would love me like this all the time. Better so I would finally be enough for him.

I was never enough. He never loved me. I always had a reason to cry with him, and he was always angry with me. I never got to “better.”

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