Five, five o’clock; he's always home at five.  I’ve been cleaning and taking care of the pets until he got home.  He doesn’t understand.  I do everything for him and I've made so many sacrifices for him.

There was a time when he was so upset at me that he attacked me, pushed me through the window, and I fought. I fought back with so much vigor but it didn't matter, I still fell two stories to the ground, left with minor bruises and no major cuts.

Maybe I was dancing too much and the drugs got to me.  Did he push me?  I’m sure he did, he had to of.  Where am I?  Is this jail?  I’ve been here before, but there are no bars.  Where are the guards and locked doors?  It’s getting dark again… there’s a scream in the next room… more noises and I’m fading.

I’m back and my room is familiar.  I’m back home and waiting by the door.  So many bottles are on the floor.  I'm waiting for him.  The front door opens and I confront him about the women and emails he's been sending and recieving.  He doesn’t speak and I strike him, swinging hard and fast.  I land a few blows, but the next thing I know I am in the ambulance again, and the all too familiar feeling is sinking in.

I wake up in my own bed, the ringing from my phone piercing the silence. I hear my boyfriend's voice on the other line explaining that he knows everything, that he’s done with the drinking, the violence, and his discovery of the heroin that I've come to possess. The conversation ends and I look through the photos of us on my phone. What have I done?

This is just a dream, it can't be real. There are so many temptations to help me numb the weight of the truth.  A pack of cigarettes and a bottle of Hennessey left in the corner are finished within the hour, and my body starts to shake as the alcohol takes over my senses. But my mind is still on detox.

I step into the shower with hot water running down my body.  I'm cold, even fully clothed I feel cold, but with the water and light shining on me I lift my heavy head.  The fog continues to grow as the steam billows upward and the water vapor clears my mind.  That wasn’t the man that destroyed my life.

The man that drugged me and threw me away  like I was nothing, was many years ago.  The days of constant terror and worry are long gone.  What have I done?  Now the blood is on my hands, I’ve destroyed my love’s life and buried myself in the process.  I can’t even feel the beat of my heart, but I feel the spray of the water slowly pulsing life back into my veins.


It’s over, done.  I've killed myself, yet somehow I’m still alive.

This blog was based on a true story.  Some details were modified to protect the identity of the victim(s).

Written By: Viet
Volunteer Model: Tilly McReese
Edited By: Alexis

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