He laid there, still. I wasn't sure if he was dead. But I wasn't going to cry over someone like him, he wasn't worth it.
"Are you awake?"
I remember the nights where he'd come back home worse than ever, drunk and violent.
"Are you still there?"
I screamed at the imaginary hands that seemed to grasp me wherever I went, no matter how far I fled.
"Are you going to stop me?"
Then, I left. I left the memories, I left the life I led until now, and I left him.
