If I Love Myself[On Hold]

Chapter 4

Hate Myself, NF

Quote;

When the nights get dark
Look to the stars.

Chapter 4.

     These last few weeks seem to be moving so slow lately. Every day it's the same thing over and over. I wake up in the middle of the night, breathing heavily and drenched in my own sweat. His soft snores can be heard from behind me, proof that at least one of us can sleep peacefully.

     In the mornings I wake up, unable to work up the courage to even get out of bed. Not wanting to brush my teeth or even eat. Seeing Julian makes me lose my appetite, but I'd never be able to tell him that. Lately, I've been pretending to sleep, just until he goes off to work. Officers have to be on duty quite a bit lately, he never tells me what for.

     Stuffing the rest of the plates in the dishwasher, I limp over and collapse on the dining room chair. A chill runs down my spine and my breathing begins to shallow. Blood begins to pound in my ears and the increasing volume of my heart thudding in my chest causes tears to well up in my eyes. My vision slowly becomes disfigured and I frantically move around, ignoring the throbbing sensation in my leg.

     Breathe, Cyrus. Breathe.

     Desperately attempting to take a large deep breath, my chest grows tighter. Sobbing, a scream escapes my throat and I choke back the rest of my tears. Curling up on the floor, I hug my knees to my chest. If there is a God, I hope he hears me.

     I don't know how long I stayed there. Listening to my heart racing, hyperventilating, and the way my vision became clearer and then distorted all over again. If Julian would've been home it could have lasted much longer. To him, I am crazy. Psychotic even. But then he always tells me he loves me, despite my issues. I don't know which part is true anymore.

     Bile rises up in the back of my throat and I hurriedly get to my feet. Rushing over towards the bathroom I nearly miss the toilet. Doubling over, I release the contents of this morning's breakfast and late-night snacks.

    Fear washes over me as I glance at the drawer. A couple of days ago I took a pregnancy test, but panicked and just tossed it in there. The last thing I need nor want is a kid, to bring another life into this house. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I quickly tug the drawer open.

     Negative.

     A strangled laugh escapes my throat and I wipe the beads of sweat off my forehead. Quickly discarding the pregnancy test, I splash my face with water. You're going to be okay, Cyrus. You're going to be okay.

     I just need to believe that.

     Normally, I don't step a foot outside the house. Julian prefers to keep me in the house, just to make sure I don't run my mouth. Today I can't help but feel suffocated.

     Sometimes I believe the neighbors can really hear me. My screams, the cries for help, an occassional warning shot. These walls aren't thick. I can hear the clattering of pots and pans next door.

     Mrs. Jefferson's tea kettle makes a lot of noise. The whistling of the kettle persists for what seems like hours. His fist meets my cheek and the whistling only gets louder. The rustling of dishes and the sweet sound of jazz music fill my ears. An energetic rhythm playing over and over, his fists giving them a standing ovation. Begging them for an encore.

     For hours, they would oblige. Until the tea kettle stops whistling and until the dishes stop moving. The jazz dies down and so do my screams.

     Yeah, I think they can hear me.

     I really don't know what made me fill up one of Julian's trashbags with clothes. I don't know what made me feel compelled to leave. All I know is that I'm tired, tired of being a toy for someone's pleasure. Tired of being lied to, beaten, and treated like I'm.. like I'm nothing. Maybe that's what I am, I am n- no, I am something. I just don't know what. Not yet anyway.

      The further I walk from the house, the more my heart begins to race. He is all I have in this world. Julian is my only source of financial support and love. I'll come back, I tell myself, when he's better. When the nightmares have died down and the lustful, vicious look in his eye dissipates.

     I do not know where I'm going. But I allow my feet to take me away from this place. From the only home I have ever known in years. That is, if you can even call it home. Maybe I just don't deserve to feel good, maybe I should just stay. Despite all of these thoughts, I keep on walking anyway.

     Maybe I'll be okay.

A/N

Thank you so much for reading this chapter, it really means a lot to
me! What do you guys think of Cyrus's decision to finally
leave? Do you think she will be back?

Have a wonderful day!

( ˘ ³˘)♥