Forgetting Love

15

I sit against the bathroom door. My legs are firmly locked in place and my feet are planted on the sink. He won't be getting in here. Chris won't ever get near me again.

I know, hiding in a lockless bathroom won't keep him away forever, but it was the best I could do in the shape I'm in. The door out of the room was locked and there was no where else to go. I just couldn't be in that room. Not with him.

After he fell asleep, I managed to crawl out of his arms and off the bed. I couldn't stop crying when I sorely walked around trying to find an escape. I stumbled around for a few moments before I made my way to the bathroom. I grabbed clothes and slid them on. Then I sank down in to the position I'm in. It doesn't sound like much, but it was one of the hardest things I've ever done.

I hug the fresh pair of sweatpants and shirt close to me. It feels so soft against my dirty, aching skin. It's a thin layer of protection that I'll always be thankful for. These clothes feel like a second skin. I never want to lose them.

I've been in here for hours. The tears have long since stopped, but the memories come in full force; the way he touched me, my cries he never heard, the pain I felt when he took me.

The pain I still feel.

I've lost too much in this past year. I'm missing parts of my life that I can never get back. I lost my best friend, the love of my life, my family, and now my innocence. I lost my pride. He took everything from me.

The boat teeters back and forth in a rhythmic pattern that my body can't quite get. My already sick stomach begins to churn again. It lurches one more time before I have move from my spot for a moment to get to the toilet.

I barely get there in time. The sick bile fights it's way out of me. I throw up what little my stomach has to give. The putrid taste lingers in my mouth but it's the least of my problems. I rinse my mouth out in the sink. Then I slowly make my way back to my spot.

I don't feel any better. In fact, I feel worse. My mind feels numb. It's hard to comprehend anything. Like a fog has clouded my insides and leaves sort of an emptiness in me. I can't see anything clearly.

I can't sleep. The nightmares scare me too much. My memories come to life in them. I have to relive my worst fear again and again. At least now I can block them out.

It's kind of funny, I guess. You can think that you're the strongest and greatest person in the world. Untouchable, even. But you don't know how truly weak and breakable you are until fear stares you straight in the eyes. Until that fear becomes reality and consumes every part of you until you can't recognize your own self.

The scariest thing is that everyone, even the strongest, have a fear, and it doesn't take much to break you.

The room starts to glow from the small window. It lights up a vibrant orange. Normally this time of day would enchant me, but now it makes me sick. Everything that reminds me of him makes me sick.

I remember a beautiful sunrise. The orange had the same fiery glow to it. It was so full of life, just like I used to be. But it was also the same day Chris first took me over a year ago. Beauty can hide even the darkest of deeds.

There's a rustle of sheets on the other side of the door. I gasp, please not now. I'm not ready for this! "Morgan," he groans tiredly. My breathing becomes shallow at the sound of his voice.

I plant my feet firmer against the the sink and prop my back further. Don't come in, I keep chanting in my head. I strain my ears for the slightest noise. I hold my breath. Silence.

It stays quiet for a few moments. It's so quiet that I can hear the waves tapping the side of the boat. I start to relax a little, but then the sheets move again and more noise follows. I start to shake.