Black Sludge

Flooded

"Hey. Are you listening? Say something."

The harsh words, delivered as a command, push me further down the black sludge.

Her mouth deftly hangs open but no sound comes out.

The darkness is lodged in my throat and I can't speak. It takes all the energy I can muster just to clear a path for a single utterance.

But what do I say. Options float around on the sea of black, stained and tainted by the darkness. Tell him your side of the argument (but it's not like he cares anyways, because nobody cares about you). Tell him your upset (and he will get angry at you for being impossible to talk to). Walk away and return to the conversation another the time  (so we can be left alone without any interference). The dark whispers never end, getting louder and louder the longer I take to decide. It sneers at her, pointing out how he's getting impatient, how he needs a response. It feels like darkness will never relent.

Eventually, she mutters a lame "sorry".

(I'm glad you chose to some alone time with me). The darkness is finally satiated.

She turns away from him before he notices the tears spilling from her eyes. She swallows her sobs so he won't here her and chokes on them.

If I could betray a single tear or a small cry he'll know and maybe he can rescue me.

(He will hate you for getting so upset. Even when you leave, he will find out and hate you. No one would ever want to be with someone so stupid as you. When he leaves you, you'll be alone. You'll never find anyone else. You're a sad, pathetic creature. You have no future in your sad, pathetic life. You have no reason for living. You're a pain to others who don't even care about you. Now go punish yourself for your sins.)

The words roared through my head, deafening all other senses.

She turns to move toward the bathroom. Her movements were jerky, like she lost sense of proper movement. The only thing she ks concerned with going to the bathroom.

(Punish yourself.)

The bathroom. Where the sharp objects were.

(You must do this.)

It's something I must do.

...

He grabs her arm, halting her in her painfully slow tracks. She didn't have the energy to resist him but it's not like she had made it very far anyways.

"Where are you going?" he snapped.

The sharpness in his voice cut through me like a knife.

(GO)

The darkness gives me energy again. Enough to move. And it's sort of nice, being able to move again.

She breaks free of his grasp and mutters "bathroom," through gritted teeth. It was a lot, and now she's been depleted of energy again. It takes all her focus to lift a leg. And even then, it takes what feels like a lifetime.

He grabs her arm again, more tightly this time.

I see an image of his hand holding on too tight and ripping my arm straight off. Somewhere, something in my head hurts with a pain like my arm had been ripped off.

(He wants to hurt you. It's what you deserve. It's what he wants. So go help him.)

The pain of knowing that I am such a burden to him rips through me like viscous wildfire scorching every inch of my being.

She flinches involuntarily.

"Hey," he says in a soft voice.  "Hey, what's wrong?"

She looks at him.

For a second, the darkness seems to be a bit... grey. Did he do that?

I look at him.