Suppose This Will Become Your Prison Instead of Your Escape…

Angry tears found their way from my fastly shut eyelids. The heavy drops mingling with sweat from my brow, forming a river that cascaded down my face, my neck, my chest… Soaking my shirt as I sat on the dirty floor holding my tormented head in my shaking hands. One choked sob gave way to another as my mind raced back and forth, round and round, grabbing snatches from here and there of the best and the worst, swirling them together to create a storm of desperate emotions. My back against the wall, right here, right now and in so many other ways. My fingers intertwined in my hair out of frustration, pain, and fear…

Opening my eyes again I stared at the bottle on the bottom shelf of that pantry cupboard… Cherry wine, light pink, sweet…

If I drink the whole thing I’ll forget… I’ll forget how he treats me… I’ll forget how dirty I feel… dirty for what he’s done to me…

Why is it I that feels the weight of this filth? He is the one it oozes from and yet I am the one that carries it. He walks away clean after having dumped his corruption on me. Brutal words that spew from his mouth leaving stains on my mind. Bitter actions that rip and tear at my already broken heart. Even his cruel taking of me whenever he pleases but turning his head and demanding me wipe my own blood from his vile body. How sick it was of me to be a woman and leave any trace of that fact to be seen. He has caused me to bleed in every way and yet I am the abominable one for ever letting one drop of red fall. Anger made another rush through my being at the thought.

My heart pounded in my chest as I considered… considered taking the way out for but a moment. A night. A few hours.

What would it feel like to NOT feel? Would I forget it all? Or worse than reality, would I forget all but this? Perhaps all that would follow me down this dark path would be my worst memories and the terror of my night dreams.

What if all I feel is him… what if all I hear is his voice screaming, yelling, taunting… what if all I see is his hate, piercing, cutting, burning… What if my running away became a running to…

The desire to run… run away from all this pain, confusion and misery was overwhelming. But run where and how? Was this the way? Or would this lead me only closer to what he is? After all, this is his way out too…

I reached out a hand to grab the bottle… it was cool to the touch. It would taste sweet in comparison to this bitter life. Would it help me forget that which I hate to remember? Would it help me escape that which I’m running from?

Oh the decision to make when the outcome is unknown… The voice inside me whispered, “Suppose this will become your prison instead of your escape… Binding you forever to something you absolutely hate…”

Holding it in my hands I watched as the Sweet Cherry label blurred through tears…

“God, HELP”!!!!! I screamed into the air. “I just want a break! A getaway! A place where I don’t have to hurt, don’t have to think, don’t have to feel…” I thought of my babies in the other room peacefully sleeping. So precious, so innocent, so trusting. I could not let them down. I was all they had!

I shut the cupboard door with the bottle behind it…Wiping the last tears from my eyes I took a deep breath. I still wanted a getaway, a release from tension and pressure, a break from the cruel reality.

Instead, I crept into the room where my sleeping babies laid, kissed each one, whispered “Mama loves you” and went on living… living a life of hidden horror.

He knew nothing of my struggle… he did not care to find out… he was the cause…