Learning To Lose Him

1

There was a lot of screaming that day

I didn't expect him to come home as drunk as he did

I didn't expect things to escalate as quickly as they did

I didn't expect him to stab me

But he did. Things were always rocky between us, but if I had known that would be the day I saw the real Troy and what he could do, I still wouldn't have left. Because I wouldn't expect him to be the same horrifying man I dealt with that day. Because I was, and still am, stupid. My ignorant optimism will always be my weakness, and I hate myself for it. Intrusive thoughts crush my voice of reason, leaving me weak and pathetic. 

'He was drunk, he didn't mean it.'

'He probably misses you.'

'You should go back to him.'

'It was a mistake.'

'You know he loves you.'

'He loves you.'

'HE LOVES YOU.'

He loves me...bullshit. If so, then why am I the only one still struggling to move from shackles that bind us both? It's been two months, he was locked up for eleven. I haven't been able to live my life as a person again because as far away as it seems, this period of freedom will be short lived. Like a canine for a bone, he'll always come back.

And like every hellhound, he'll come back for blood.