She sat on the cold bathroom floor with her knees to her chest; her arms wrapped around her legs tightly, grasping to find some sense or reason in all of it. ‘How did it get to this point?’ she thought to herself, as she wiped the smudged make-up off her face with the back of her hand. She had cried so much her head pounded in pain, screaming at her to stop; her body couldn’t take it anymore. She knew that if she attempted to stand up, she would only come crashing back down to the floor, so she sat there – pretending she would be able to rise if she wanted to. The passion that initially attracted them like magnets was the same passion that was ripping them apart, piece by piece.
They had been having a good time at a Halloween block party with his friends just a few short hours earlier. Or at least he thought they were having a good time. She vaguely remembered taking the last sip of her drink, but she remembered when the world around her began to spin. She remembered sitting on that stool outside the bar, half-naked in public, being gawked at by mock soldiers and drag queens. She didn’t even like her costume. “Don’t worry babe, you’ll look hot!” he urged, “I’ll protect you.” She glanced over at him now, barely able to focus her eyes, and there he was – talking and laughing with his friends – completely oblivious to her existence.
She remembered forcing her way through the crowd, being groped the entire way. Strange hands found their way to the secrets of her body that only one man was supposed to know, the one man who now wouldn’t even hold her hand to guide her through the crowd. Instead, he fell behind, allowing her to trudge through the sea of costumed bodies – fending for herself. Wasn’t that the way it had always been, anyway? She knew that if she ventured off, he wouldn’t follow. He didn’t care enough to stop her. Angrily, she forged on, deciding that she needed to find the truck – at least it would be a safe place to rest her swollen feet and escape from the commotion and drunken strangers. She heard him calling her name but just as she had suspected, she heard no footsteps behind her, so she never turned back.
She found herself walking down a dark and desolate street, with only few party-goers occasionally passing her by. Panicked, she looked around. Nothing looked familiar. The street signs were foggy to her intoxicated eyes. Her feet hurt so badly that she felt as though she was walking on nails. She stopped and gazed into the vast black emptiness before her. She stood alone on the street, and once again found herself with no one to turn to. She was too proud to cry and too angry to give up.
She wandered in and out of parking lots until she came across two plain-clothed men who were walking to their car. Her request for a ride surprised them, but she was clearly under the influence, so they politely obliged. The phone calls began. She wondered why she had even bothered to call him at all. The screaming, the blaming, the blatant disrespect, hanging up, and calling back – it was a vicious circle with no end. Why was she still putting up with all of this? Did she not know that she deserved better? She handed the cell phone back to the friendly passenger, and thanked the men for their help. They voiced their concern for her well-being, and when she refused any further assistance, they said their goodnights and pulled away from the curb. ‘The kindness of strangers,’ she thought, kindness she couldn’t find even in her own home.
When she reached her door she collapsed at the doorstep. Her aching feet thanked her. Here were the tears. She buried her head in her knees and prayed for God to take it all away. She wanted her sanity back.
He came around the corner like an angry bull, ready to charge. All she wanted was her key to the door and silence. That’s all. He wouldn’t let her close the door behind her, so she left it open. Her memories of fits of rage came flooding back when the door flew open and crashed against the wall. Screaming, crying, begging, pleading, clothes flying off in waves of anger, doors slamming, objects flying…it was all too familiar. Even the sound of the police radios coming down the hallway didn’t seem out of place. She stood there in the bedroom, unclothed and vulnerable, when they charged into the room. As the officer closed the bedroom door so that she could get dressed, she wondered how this had become her routine. The night’s events replayed in her head like a bad movie. She wouldn’t get her silence tonight.
As the cops sent him away and the walkie-talkies became muffled as they shut the door, she wondered if she was relieved or terrified. Her heart cried. She just wanted to know that everything would be alright, although she knew that things would never be the same. She stumbled to the bathroom, vision blurred by alcohol-laced tears. That’s when it happened. She glanced in the mirror. She didn’t recognize the face staring back at her.
Who was this person who allowed it to get this far? Who was this person who didn’t love herself enough to hold her own sanity higher than she held him? Who was this shell of a woman, this stranger in the mirror?
Her knees buckled. She slid down the wall onto the floor. If she had ever known a point of no return, this was it. She wondered where he was, and whether or not he even cared that they were slowly destroying each other. She wondered what he would say in the morning, when the light in the sky would offer them a brighter and better day. She wondered if daylight would ever come. She wondered if she would even recognize the sun.
She wanted to pick herself up off the cold tile and dust herself off, as she had always done in the past, but wondered if she even remembered how. ‘How did it get to this point?’ She had allowed it, that’s how.
Not anymore.
She grabbed onto the sink and pulled herself up. She forced herself to look in the mirror.
There she was.
She allowed it. Not anymore.