Raw Emotions

Living with a Loaded Weapon

And there it is,
Right in front of me,
Close enough to touch.
The cause of my untimely destruction
In the form of a man.
Panic, panic!
I steel away my heart and hide it beneath the charred formation of my lungs.
Charred from secondary smoke thick enough to kill,
I hide away my cracks, the weaknesses in my system from the last beating.
I discard the option of stilling the heart that rattles my kneecaps till I can't walk,
I choose to hide away my vulnerability.

I smell it as soon as he sways past, before I even hear his alphabet soup voice,
The intoxication of his body and mind make me sick, my hands joining my knees in the rattling panic-
Panic- panic!
My mind screeches to a halt and I taste the bitterness in the air, on his voice, I smell his breath as I notice the hidden threats.
I turn to hide, burying my head in the sand of my duvet like a ten year old remembering half lucid memories of the drunk, the night, the cold air, the devil that courses through the mans system like a hyena picking off the dead like a scavenger and the sounds.... the sounds.
I place my palms to my ears and scrunch my eyes shut in my hiding place, but he is etched into the backs of my eyelids and I can't shut him out!

I let the panic take me, I let the loud sounds engulf me and the next thing I know my rattling hands are shoving clothes into a bag, leaving them next to the door in case my mother grabs me or in case the threats turn obvious and I get the signal.
I don't feel safe.
I don't feel safe.
I'm not safe.

I let the panic subside and when I open my eyes I am sat on the ottoman in the corner, curled around myself like a baby, holding a pillow like a child, trying not to think about the many ways I could turn his head into a pin cushion for my pencils.
The panic is gone, but my head is far from quiet.

I'm not scared of guns because every day I stare down the barrel of one and wait for the day it goes off.
My watch beeps every hours so I can count down the minutes of distanced torture and count up the seconds I have left.
It is then that I realise happiness does come at a price. It is calorie free and a feel good food- but in moments like this, when my nails become knives that dig into my flesh, I understand that happiness has the ability to make everything hit you harder than it did before it left.
Like a bridge in the rain, it takes everything away. Most people have the luxury of staying under the bridge but I am in a car that hurtles down the roads at break neck speed.
I am scared of speed because it gives me the same feeling of fear I get when I look down the barrel of the gun I live with.
I live with a loaded weapon.