One in the Same

Ch 1: Blake

Shit. I was still alive.

I'm somewhat grateful to be still breathing. And yet I was filled with regret that I was still breathing.

I missed my chance to be away from this earth, and away from this vessel of a so-called human that lays next to me. My heartbeat was steady and slow, although it aches to breathe in heavily. My joints ached, screaming with pain. My hands and knuckles feel like they weigh thirty pounds; each arm. Blinking the sleep from my eyes, memories from last night flooded my brain. The anxiety creeps in with it as well.

Looking over to my left, and my whole body tensed, uneasy. She was fast asleep, knocked out from the beers and tequila shots she took last night. She overdid it - again. And I took the fall for it -- again. The result was her crying, pleading, and begging me to stay. That she loved me and wouldn't do anything to hurt me. She didn't mean it and it was just the alcohol talking for her, that she had anger issues, blah blah blah...

Yet, there is no one to blame for my own choices but to believe the tears and words, to crawl right back into bed.

At least two to three times a week I was walking around with a so-called reason, as to how much she loved me.

And yet here I am. Lying in the bed with someone who I was supposed to love. Faking till I make it.

In every way.

At this point in time I was only sharing the place with her cause I knew how it would look to my family if I went back with my tail between my legs, asking to come back home. I would feel like a failure. Like I lost a battle I never thought I was a part of.

Plus, the whole starving over for me, would be little to none. Dating in this day in age, it was meaningless. Powerless. Emotionless sex. It made my stomach roll to think about it. Old fashioned was me; it still is me. I just never get to show it. Not anymore at least.

Groaning, I stretched my arms over my head, immediately wincing, hissing at air being sucked between my teeth. Placing a hand on the right side of my ribs, I groaned again, the tenderness was there. Most likely a cracked rib... or two.

Slowly rising from the bed, careful not to wake the beating beats next to me, I prepared for the day. Showered, scrubbing the blood and sweat off my body, the water rolling down the drain along with my hope and sanity of ever getting out of this hell hole.

Shutting off the water, I wrapped a towel around my hips, wiping the mirror of steam. My eyes bugged wide, my jaw set tight as I looked at my reflection in the mirror. Tears stung behind my eyes immediately, and my throat became dry.

My left eye was slightly purple, and yellow underneath, from three weeks ago when she punched me in my face for forgetting to grab milk at the store, and for taking too long to come back home. She was also high from smoking weed all day.

Did I mention she didn't have a job?

My lips were busted from last night, along with tiny indents of nail mars on my cheeks and chin. Some of them are already starting to scab over. If you looked right they could pass for acne scars, but I don't think my brother would be fooled. Some are slightly open from the shower. I inspected my face more, my brain already cranking out a way to be free from all this. My eyes scanned lower on my body, my torso twisting slightly to look at the god-awful bruise forming on my side. Yep, there's a bruise or two cracked.

Love you too, baby.

Turning the lock behind me, I gathered my shaving bag and pulled out what was needed in order to mask the reality. But before that, I grabbed my phone out of my sweatpants pocket, took pictures of everything, and sent it to my work email. Once the little signal in the top right of the screen notified me that it was sent, I deleted it. Along with the photos on my phone.