She Had To Leave Him

Slava Bowman

She started to sense it slip away, the burn of whisky skimmed down her throat, the taste of bitterness swelled in her stomach, there was no time for sadness.

Drink Girl, she cheered herself on.

Three days after she’d felt the soul crushing sting of her lover’s hand on her face she’d become repugnant, denouncing the life she once lived. Everything from that moment forward would change the course of her life.

Get out.

Stay.

Confusion swirled around her spirit, a tornado of emotion crushing any confidence she’d ever had in herself.

The bruise had started to settle on her face, purple and blue hues making it difficult to ignore the stain he had left for her. A whisper of insecurity was now passing through her thoughts, condemning herself for the swelling on her profile. The game had commenced, and she would be the collateral in a hate filled romance with who she thought she once was.

Finding solace as the whisky numbed, she placed the mask of ice to her face, erasing any proof there was a stain at all. She would wear that veil as she asked for forgiveness from the hand that hurt, aching for a love that may never have been there at all. She wore the darkness believing each confidence crushing word he said; it was too late to walk away, she’d already lied to herself for too long.

Lost Girl.

He wouldn’t apologise as she begged for him to control/to touch her; he would look into her eyes disgusted she’d let him taint her. His hatred wasn’t at himself, and she felt every bite of derision he was taking out of her already pained heart.

Where did she go, how could she run?

Beg girl.

There was little left of the girl she once knew, pressed down by the thumb of control; she begged for his forgiveness. Lost without his harsh words, she didn’t feel alive. He scorned her for his motions, placing blame where she believed it to lie; there was no other course of action but to plead her case. A prayer for his discharge for wronging him, she had to apologise for the stain, wipe it cleanly from her face and believe the venom he blasted from his lips.

Forget Girl.

As the purples and blues slowly disappeared from her face, the girl she once was washed away with them. Finding herself lost in impassioned speeches, polluting her mind of any esteem she previously possessed. She let go of her former self and believed his lies.

Invisible Girl.

Days turned to nights, months to years and injury to mediocrity. She was invisible to herself and everyone she allowed close enough to the woman she’d become. Nightmares haunted her subconscious, as she descended deeper into the belief she was worthless without him. A quiet mind, now completely silenced.

She had lost the fight; his angst became hers, controlled entirely by hot-breathed readily believed words of malice. He had consumed her completely.

Lost Girl.

The metaphorical whisky was empty, and as the depression poured from her tragic, private eyes, she heard the patter of little feet across the floor. Squinting to recognise through masked pain and the loss of herself, revealed was her daughter. Roaring soft eyes of innocence appeared with insurance; her daughter’s love was unoccupied, untainted. She recognised a woman she once knew, and there she stood right in front of her. The glory, to give her daughter a better life, shining directly upon her stagnant heart.

Gone Girl.

Packing the pain in suitcases of anger, she left. Taking only her heart and soul, placed deep within the innocent eyes of her children. She walked steadily passed the sting of the hand he’d laid on her face. Without looking back, that girl was gone. TC mark

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