He used to call me poison,
Like I was poison ivy...
I could have died right there,
Cause he was right beside me...
Jim raised me up,
He hurt me but it felt like true love...
Jim taught me that,
Loving him was never enough...
I've been running for a straight 5 minutes now, which I thought would be humanly impossible but I guess I can do anything if it means I'm escaping from death. I've ran from the dirty, law-breaking neighbourhood I had become so used to, running through tunnels, through alleys, parks, forests and anything else I've come across to get away from that place. The hard gravel is smacking against the soles of my feet. Cars are whizzing past me, their bright lights sting my sensitive eyes, the drivers uncaring as they splash filthy, numbing water against my legs, but I don't care - I can't stay with him for any longer. I can't keep lying to myself. I don't know where I'm going but all I know is I need to stay away from him. He's dangerous and I knew it from the first time he laid his filthy hands on me. I knew I should have left him months ago, after the very first time he gave me a bruise. The first time I could taste the blood pooling in my mouth and ignored it.
But I just couldn't help myself, he needed someone to be there for him and I curse myself for thinking I'm responsible for doing that. He is a grown man, thirty years of age, he can take care of himself. He has made me lose so much yet he still wants more from me. At age fifteen he made me leave what was left of my family to live with him somewhere miles away from my real home, in the suburbs of London. Jim. That's his name. He made me lose my job, one I had worked so hard to get. All my years of studying gone to waste, just to move with him to an unknown area. Three unforgettable years have passed since then. Back then, he really made me feel special, he made me feel so nice and he would tell me things no one else knew how to say to make me feel great. It turned out to all be a lie. He never loved me, he only used me.
I guess this is what happens when a stupid little girl thinks she has fallen in love. It wasn't until 10 months ago that he hurt me for the first time. I came home late one night, he slammed me against the front door demanding to tell him where I'd been and who I'd been with. It was frightening. When I didn't answer him, he punched me in my right eye and left a big red bruise. I forgave him of course because I thought it was a one time thing. It wasn't. It became my living nightmare and I was trapped. It became something that would eventually occur everyday, he would release his anger and stress on me, I was a punching bag and what was worse was that I let him hurt me, because there was no other place to go. He owned me. He gave me a home, in return for breaking me. I was too broken to try and repair myself. I had relied on him with everything I had and I had nowhere to run to, no one to run to. I was alone in my nightmare.
I couldn't tell anyone because then he would lose everything. As much as I despised him, I felt like I wasn't really that selfish. Another reason was because he would rarely even let me leave the flat. The idea of running away had crossed my mind so many times and I had planned it out so very carefully. I had waited until I was completely ready. I had waited for the perfect moment, and it had come tonight.
Everything's going to get better now, I've had enough. He's hurt me so much and now I am finally ready to leave him, I've taken the final blow and I'm not having anymore of his cruelty. I will be homeless for all I care as long as I'm away from the beast in him and that glint of danger that would always linger in his eyes. The evil look he gets when he has drunk too much, had a bad day at work or is bored and needs something to occupy him. I will never again hear the scream that comes from my mouth every time he touches me, and pleases himself by doing so. He doesn't deserve another minute of my time. I hate him. Actually, I despise him. I am terrified of him and I have to run.
I suddenly realise I have been running for almost 10 minutes, tears streaming down my face, loud pants escaping my dry lips. To make a bad situation worse, the dreary London weather has made all my clothes stick to my body from the pouring rain. My feet feel numb from the cold, and I can't take any further steps without tripping up. I feel out of breath and I spot a small bench by a park and take a seat. I run my hands through my damp hair and lean my head into my tucked knees. I continue to let my tears spill out while letting all my thoughts run through my head, sobs racking my body making me heave with effort. I think of what to do, where to go next.
The thought of Jim's comfortable bed invades my mind until I remember the knife. The knife which was soaked in dark blood. I will never get that image out of my head. I will never forget any of tonight's events, they will haunt me until the day I die.
"I'm home!" I shout unlocking the door and bringing in my bags of groceries.
"Jim?" I call out for my boyfriend. I hear him coming out of the bedroom of our flat to come and greet me. He looks tired and has bags under his eyes. I wonder what he does that makes him that tired.
I know some of the drugs he takes occasionally have effect on how he looks, but I don't know how something can make someone look so dirty and dead-looking. I am aware that Jim is holding something behind his back and I walk towards him to give him a quick peck on the cheek, trying to hold my breath in so that I don't inhale his horrible stench.
He gives me a distant smile then smirks, and that's when I smell the alcohol in his breath. I know what that means, I'll be having to go back to superdrug to buy more heavy foundation to cover my neck, from hand marks, tomorrow morning. I take a deep sigh. However much he hurts me, I do believe I love him... even if it's from the bottom of my heart, even after all he has done to me.
I take that back as soon as he slowly brings his hand out from behind him and a gasp escapes my mouth as soon as my eye catches a glimpse of what it is. My heartbeat is quickening, I jump and cover my eyes with my hands, hoping what I saw isn't what I think it is.
"What is that?" My voice is shaky.
He smirks slowly and peels my hands away from my face. He catches my gaze and slowly brings the small knife up. He puts his finger at the tip of the knife and lets the filthy blood drip down it. I let out a scream and he rushes to cover my mouth with his large hand. He brings the knife up to my neck digging in slightly, drawing the faintest line of blood.
I whimper as he begins to speak. I can't hear what he's saying, it's all blurring into one garbled mess. He slams my head against the kitchen door and gives a sick smile. My sight swims in and out of focus as I try not to hear the insults he shouts at me. All I know is that if I don't get out soon he's going to hurt me, maybe even kill me.
I know he is capable of many bad things, but would he really murder me?
He drags me to 'our' bed and throws me down, scrambling on top of me. He fumbles with his belt for a bit until it's loose, then he yanks it down his legs and casts it aside. He lays the knife in the dressing table by the bedside as he removes my underwear, I've never felt so low before. I know what I have to do to get out of this nightmare. To survive, to see another day. His drunkenness will make his reactions slower, I may actually succeed, I may live.
While he is lifting his shirt over his head I see my opening, my chance, and I take the knife with my two small hands and plunge it into his thigh, using every muscle in my body.
I don't dare look back at him at all as I sprint out of that hell-hole of a flat, not even thinking twice about it. I run until my lungs burn and I stumble forward some more. I can't let him catch me. I just can't. If he does, I know I won't get another chance to escape, because I'll be dead.
~~~
A/n- please remember to vote if you like the story so far, and comment your opinion- I would love to know what you think about this so far! Thank you so much ~ Yasmin xx
