The Places I'll Go [may be edited]

Prologue

He grabbed my hair, slamming my face against the closet door for what I've counted as the fifth time. "I'm sick and tired of this constant bullshit, Christina."

'Then why won't you let me leave?'

I wanted to ask, I wanted to know. If he didn't want me then what was the point of keeping me around? He pulled me forward and sniffed my shirt. I cringed, as always, reached up and grabbed his hand. I don't know why he acts this way, maybe it makes him feel better knowing he has someone to take his anger out on. "I hate that you smoke," he spat with so much venom I could feel my skin burn. I looked into his hazel eyes, hated and loved those eyes, "I hate that you hit me too but look where we are." His eyes were sharp, they screamed almost as much as he did. He always held this glint in his eyes, something that said 'love me and I'll return the favor.'

He took his hand from my hair making me to sigh in relief only for him to wrap his hand around my throat. The pressure was bearable but it made me gasp, "You have too much mouth on you, makes me wanna shut the bitch for you," he challenged. I chose not to say anything more, he liked to play this game of back and forth because he knew I liked to argue. "What? You gonna shut up now? Where did all your fight go bitch?"

I've never been much of a violent person but Garrett made me think things that I shouldn't. He made me want to do things I couldn't. I kept silent and looked to the ground, submission makes him feel good so, for now at least, I'll give him what he wants.

SLAP

"You think you're funny."

And another one.

"You mouth off then shut up, bet you think this shit is cute."

Strike three.

Garrett grabbed me by the cheeks so hard I could feel my own teeth cut into my jaw. I know I'm crying, can feel the spit running out of my mouth while I try to pull his oversized hand from my face. He slammed my head back again and I taste blood. I feel dizzy and nauseous and so many other things that it's hard to comprehend in that moment.

I wanna cry but I don't. I wanna scream for help but I don't. I wanna leave and go someplace warm where it doesn't stink like overused Versace cologne. But I don't, I don't because I know I'll only go as far as the bridge over the highway before I realize that there's nowhere to go. I don't because I know the amount of damage he'll do before anyone finds me. I just don't.

I kept my eyes on the floor and said nothing, I just kept thinking about what I could do while he yells at me. I sat and tried to keep silent despite crying and needing to blow my nose. I know he doesn't care because he hits me again and I want to say I love you to make him stop but I know I won't mean it. I want to hug him so he won't hurt me anymore but know he'll keep doing it no matter what way I beg. My chest hurts and for the third time today I contemplate ending everything because dying would be so much better. But thinking was always easy, I didn't have to face reality if I just sat and thought about what I could do. He let out something that kind of sounded like a growl, maybe even a snarl, and slammed my body back against the door behind me. I winced, and wanted to cry out but held it back, screaming only made it worse. "I can't stand you sometimes," he let me go and stood up. I held my breath as he walked away, slammed the room door, and went to do God knows what.

I looked at my reflection in the mirror of the closet door, 'That's ugly.' There was the outline of a bruise, something soft and darkening. I traced my fingers over it and sniffed, 'Don't cry. You've done enough of that.' There were so many disgusting things that I could point out but I wasn't. I clearly wasn't going to do a lot of things today so instead closed my eyes and took a deep breath in and out, keep calm and carry on they always say. I opened the closet door and pulled out the gym bag I've never actually taken to the gym before realization hit me that all my clothes are in our room. I just grabbed my coat and slipped on my boots, I was going to leave this godforsaken apartment even if I didn't have somewhere to stay or clothes to take.

I grabbed my keys and phone seconds away from leaving before I saw the box of cigarettes on the table. I wanted them, so so bad. I could think of all the ways it was going to make me feel good but thought of more ways they wouldn't. So I left them there, pulled my hood up and kept walking. Didn't care if he heard me close the door or leave at all.

I've been doing this for two years, this bullhsit game of cat and mouse because Garrett was virtually all I had besides a few friends. None of them knew, I didn't want to wrap them up in my issues when they probably had a few of them of their own.

The air was cold and crisp when I finally got outside the apartment complex. I didn't stop, didn't stop to admire the soft snow or Mrs. Thomas waving to me as she got out her car. I left and never wanted to come back. I know I will though, eventually. For now, I had a place I could travel to, would be interrogated to the moon and back but anywhere was better than where I came from.

I walked down side street after side street, wanted to run but saw no point when my body already felt like it would give out any second. Finally, after walking so long the bridge was the first thing I saw and my anxiety grew. I know that if I crossed and kept going that I'll have to talk about the situation I've gotten myself into and have willingly stayed in. I stood there and looked at the cars pass by and for the first time in years I prayed to God. I prayed that I could have the courage to keep going. I wanted to stop here and climb the fence and end it. I wanted to go somewhere and light a cigarette and forget that my boyfriend hits me. I wanted to do so much but instead I prayed across the street from the bridge, hands in my pockets and head bent down. I prayed for something better.

I said my amens and looked up, nothing had changed. I was still across the street from the bridge over the highway. I was still bruised and broken, without my only coping device. But I felt better. I felt like saying something made me better. I felt like wanting better made me better so I waited for the light to change again. I walked across the bridge and kept walking. My heart was heavy and I wanted to vomit, definitely wanted to vomit, but I didn't. I just kept walking.