Not Yours | H.S

three

Polly Prescott.

"You're hurting me." Three words that my mouth is way too familiar with, yet they still cry it out in hope and desperation it will go through his thick head.

His grip on my hand tightens a little harder as I feel the blood in my hands get tight to my skin. No tears run down my cheeks anymore, too angry to cry.

"This is real life Poll, there's no reset button for every time you fail."

My head flies in another direction to avoid his sinful spit travelling to my face. Hands gripped hard on my wrist, and body slammed over mine to keep me down, I was weak. I couldn't bear it anymore, his face was masked with anger and almost uncertainty. I used to think it was the approval he was seeking. To be a good boyfriend was all he was dreaming, but even my delusional mind gave that thought up.

He was just a controlling prick with a great youth background. Nothing like me, but 'opposites attract right?'

My mouth isn't afraid to fire back, neither is my brain. Together they know it's wrong, but my heart cant take the rejection of another. Not yet, not while he's supposed to become a father of a child of my responsibility. People grow and learn, but I end up giving that chance everyday. I try to trace it all back as if it's my fault, if anything i'm just proving i'm the victim of a gaslighter.

I try to think that telling Amara I was okay with him was jinxing myself, reversing the roles and having the bad luck that follows me come again.

With all the power in my voice, i hide the anxiety of him leaving and speak up to my intelligence and follows what's right, not what feels right.

"I didn't fail Tobes, just because I fell in love with you at one point, doesn't mean what he have is love. Fight it if you want, you know the truth. What I'm, or we are carrying wasn't made out of passion full of lust, it was made out of anger, jealousy and a drunken mistake at six am after hours of no sleep. We know it was a lie and the truth comes to bite you in the ass if you fight it." He softens his grip on my hands, letting my cold arms run warm with blood. "I have to go, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, we must be some mistake, a beautiful mistake if you wish."

Nothing was beautiful about it, the beauty was the strength and mental grit we fought to stay like this.

Apologizing was such a silly move I often made, but if i didnt i would feel like the burden in this situation. I was just happy I could give the recognition to knowing it was wrong.

He slowly moves off me as if my words have more power than myself as a person. I can't help but think maybe I've given him trauma and he's grown into having episodes where he bursts into anger. After all, it was me first. My hand was held overnight in emergency hospital rooms, but to get there he had to witness the cries, pain and threats I would give out to the world. Screaming I was gonna die, that I pleaded for help. People in my head, chasing me through my own walls. Maybe he matched my energy and became the dark part of me. Instead of inflicting it on himself, he was showing me what I put him through.

Now, I'm just stuck with old love and fights all night long, pleading for it to stop but not having the heart to make it stop.

To watch him slowly move aside and let me have my space makes me feel as if it was worth it and boundaries were respected, however they weren't.

As his still body laid there looking at the roof, I took it as my go ahead to pack a bag and get ready to leave. Not for good, but for the night.

My pain isn't coming from the perspective of knowing he's just going to invite some girl over who's totally oblivious, but from the place of knowing i'm coming back sooner or later.