I don't remember when it started.
He always stood there, watching, his eyes cutting into me even when I couldn't see him. I would lay in the dark and he would be there in the corner of my eye listening to my shaky breath as I cried out for things long faded away. My family didn't mention him although I could see the discomfort on their faces the days he would stick close to me. Tonight he stroked a finger along my wrist and told me it was time to leave. I grabbed his hand, and for the first time in years I felt the comfort I had always longed for. He danced with me, he often did, but this time I didn't pull away after realizing what was happening. Our footsteps echoed along the walls of the house as we waltzed out towards the driveway, and out into the road. He took me by the hand and as he squeezed it I felt my organs be set ablaze. I didn't cry out, as I knew this was part of our dance. He led me through the forest where branches stroked my throat and we emerged into the city. We walked through the town, and I smelt the alcohol from nearby pubs cling to my nostrils but I didn't have time to stay and take it in. His firm grip took me toward the beach where I could taste the salt water and feel my lungs scream, and finally to the bridge. We climbed up to the railing and danced for hours. He consumed all my thoughts and I could hear music blaring in the background, getting closer and closer. I didn't stay long enough for it to persuade me, I had other places to be. I dove into the water like a swan and spread my wings. I could hear it already, the sound of my past dogs barking and family laughing in celebration. I had come home after my long night of dancing, and now i realised, I was free.
