He moved his index finger down the side of her cheek. It was hard to believe he’d left the bruise. It wasn’t really him, he rationalized. He wouldn’t hurt her like that. He wouldn’t wound her heart in that way. He loved her. The monster inside might do something like this, he’d mused, but he was convinced and had been for years, that he was not that monster.
She smiled up at him, at the touch of his warm hand against her blackened skin. She knew he was sorry; knew he wouldn’t do that in his sober hours. She’d already cleaned the slate of her mind regarding the offense. It would take longer for the bruise to be wiped clean.
The large trunk was old but roomy and neither the dark interior, nor the peeling wallpaper from years gone by bothered him at all. He was rather, fascinated. How could he know that once he’d crawled inside and let the lid fall, the latch would trip and he’d be stuck? He was only seven, for goodness sake.
He screamed as the dog howled, growled, and snarled, biting the corners of the trunk in response to his shrieking. An hour later they found him, asleep in a puddle of his own pee. He never went near the trunk again, and from that day forward whenever he passed the master suite and saw it, he moved away quickly and shuddered a little inside.
My sister recently showed me pictures from a family gathering.
A family that was mine, but not mine.
I was in the picture, appearing to be maybe three years old.
Unaware of what would follow.
It made me sad. For all we’ve lost, for what might have been, for that disconnect that never healed itself; partly my fault, partly theirs.
This song reminded me of it.
Love the people in your lives. They need it, but so do you!!