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The Morning Aftermath

created by chanbara

(idea) by chanbara (3.1 mon) (print)   ?   (I like it!) Tue Dec 05 2000 at 0:43:55

We left off the night not knowing what even the next hour would bring. It was my fight, as always, but this time was different. This time I brought you into it as well. That was not my intention. I was simply overwhelmed at the prospect, that something so small could have escalated into the mess that it became. I needed someone to talk to, someone to help me find an answer. It created the purpose and the sentiments within you to take care of me, and that was not quite the solution for which I was looking.

I walked outside, uncertain, scared. The words that he had said on my way out the door kept running over and over in my mind. "Tell no one." Why would he tell me not to tell anyone unless...unless I did not show up at work the next day? Unless he was going to hurt me? So that they would not ask questions? Of course I told someone. I told you. I am sorry. I did not mean to make you cry. As we parted, I looked at you one last time. I was always the type not to ask for help but this time I had to let my guard down. In desperation, I implored, "You have to think of something."

Give me a little time, I'm trying.

But there was no time to give. Knowing the worst is always better than not knowing anything at all. And this was something that I had to do alone.

Was it worse for you than it was for me? How long was your night?

Resolution. He had lied to me. I was not going to be hurt, not that night, well, not physically anyway. I ended up too exhausted to think. I do not even remember how it all ended. The way his plan was meticulously carried out, the way his lie had ended in the truth, all to play a mind game with me that he had to win in order to keep me in my place. I do not remember sleeping, nor do I remember waking in the morning. All I remember is the need to leave, more than ever. Then not leaving.

I will call you at 7:00 in the morning, just so that you know I am all right.

Even the worst storm blows over eventually. The next morning was spent recreating the events of the night before, understanding what I had missed, working with you to put the pieces of my life back together. I learned about what real friends do when they are asked to come up with something. I was calmed by the power of a major sixth. I asked questions and got answers, though they were not from you. And I was finally able to relax. I had reached the base of my existence and from that source, was able to heal faster than if you had never known.

I was never the type to ask for help. Maybe I should be.


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