The Hole Within

CHAPTER 47

The beginning of our romance was a whirlwind of lust, bars, booze and cocaine. Mel never allowed me to touch her body sexually, saying that she got her pleasure giving me pleasure. I was too naïve and grateful to question her. Mel lived with her old girlfriend and her husband. It was an odd arrangement. Mel told me that Jenny would get out of her husband's bed and go to hers. It was a sticky situation once Mel became involved with me. Jenny was angry that Mel spurned her advances and Mel told me she needed to get out of there. Mel and I found a townhouse and I left mom and Sabrina abruptly. They were pissed because they had rented their place knowing I would be contributing money. I was too blindly in love to realize the bind I was leaving them in. I was twenty-six and leaving home for the first time.

While moving into our new place I began to see another side of Mel. The angry Mel. The dark Mel. We were moving and I felt the weather of her mood change like a cold winter coming on. As we unloaded boxes I misjudged my own strength and dropped one. I glanced up at her and saw the winter darken in her face. "Goddamn it Lysa, why do you have to be so fucking clumsy?" She screamed as she came at me. I retreated, not certain of what she was going to do. Mel opened the box and found her favorite cup had been chipped. "I can fix it," I pleaded, desperate to calm her. She raged, "You fucking broke it!" raising it up and throwing it with all of her strength at a wall. The cup shattered into a million tiny pieces by the force. Mel began to pace the parking lot like a caged lion, face red, hands balled at her sides, muttering curses as I looked on helpless. I was terrified, shaking inside. Her fury was palpable. I wanted to calm her, to make things better, but I was afraid of her. The sudden outburst of violence was so out of character from the easygoing Mel I had known until then. Unsure of what to do, I got up and went over to the broken pieces and begin to pick them up. "Just fucking leave it!" she screamed and her words hit me like a fist. "I'm sorry," I cried tying to atone for my mistake. "Yeah, you are fucking sorry!" she blasted back at me. I felt wounded. Her word hitting their mark as surely as if it were her fists. I was ashamed. I felt dumb and small. I was clumsy. I should have known better. I had broken her favorite mug.

I was ashamed and instantly filled with self-loathing. I would fuck this up I thought. The only good thing in my life and I would fuck it up. I wanted to smash, cut and burn. I wanted to drink myself into oblivion. I wanted to feel the heroin high envelope me and take me away. I was quiet the rest of the day. Trying to cater to Mel's wishes and unspoken needs, silently beating myself up. That night, after Mel was done in the bathroom, I got up and went in the bathroom and shut the door. I had my razor blade with me. Quickly I slashed across one ankle then the other, watching the blood run with relief. I wanted to hurt outside as badly as I hurt inside, to bleed out the wickedness I knew was inside. I stopped the bleeding the best I could and came out and pulled on a pair of socks. When I got into bed Mel wrapped me in her arms and complained, "Why are you wearing socks?" I told her that my feet were cold.