Her Favorite Drug

Stoking her hand down the fabric and pearls of her faded white wedding dress; that was a week shy of a year old, you can tell she had given up by the way she looked at it, in misery. Looking at her brown clouded and swollen now black and blue eyes in the mirror then back at the dress in the closet and said to him, “There's only two things that made me feel that way. Getting high to the point I can't decipher reality and the figments of my imagination until i'm barely conscious, until I’ve died and came back to life and lastly you, knowing no matter what I'm trapped in my affections of you, not because I'm forced into your captivity, because I'd give my freedom to you if that were the case; but because i'm enticed by your every motion. Any smile chuckle and joke shoots me with a new type of adrenaline rushed high, some might call it love. For so long, I’ve been getting accustomed to a world I know isn’t mine, even though I wholly and truly felt that it should be, you should be…mine. I felt like loving you was a way of life and my religion was to subsume you’re every move as the high it gave me suffocated every sober molecule in my body, from the vibrations of your voice to the beat of your heart to the gentle blinks with the heavy lids of your eyes with those large fan like lashes that reveal those piercing green eyes..a perfect symphony. You know .” “It is your’s. I’d steal the world for you and give it to you if you asked” he responded. She said to her husband, “I never understood why my mother stressed that the most fluorescently-colourful animals were the most dangerous until you left me with the sour taste of rust in my mouth choking on my own blood gasping for air and crying your name as you looked at me with those eye’s. I won't ever forget the journey... because even though this is ugly, every mountain we explored, the uncharted territories, the first and lasts, was beautiful. I just don't understand why you have to hide, I still want you to stand and be you, you aren’t a nobody, someone recognized you for you, me. You are uniquely you, not a noticeable nobody; love you, and if you truly love me take this needle out of my arm and leave.” Half awake and slurred he responded with a chuckled “If I love you. Huh? You need me!” then in a twist of emotions. He seemed more awake as if he just noticed what she said and swung his fist towards her in retaliation, purposely missing and ramming his hand in the wall then gripping her neck in a choke that she could barely withstand whilst the drywall on his hand stood as pricks in between their skin, “And you ARE NOT leaving. You promised til death do us part” but she was already dead, he’s killed any bit of life in her, all she had was her soul and she wasn’t going to let him take that either. She wrapped her arms around him and said “You’re right” while laying her head on his shoulder, “I don’t know where that came from” She grabbed his face and said “I said I do, and I will ‘til death do us part, I’m not going anywhere, baby” as a single tear slid down her eye and he wiped it, then hugged her back and began caressing her long black curly hair. Catchin a glimpse of the passion mark on her brown skin, he remembered he loved this girl, he kissed it and she felt disgusted. A blood clot is what that is not a passion mark, and it would kill her if she didn’t take care of it; but he made more. In the height of his passion, she knew she couldn’t fight him in any manner. So, she let him have his way as she held onto the bit of life she’d gained with saying she’d leave, the same way she gripped to the sheets and gritted her teeth while she cried a silent cry, for him not to see. Upon his release he dropped in a heat, and began to fall asleep. If anything should be known it's that a silent woman is a dangerous woman, and that’s exactly what she’s become. She crept into the kitchen, with the feeling of living, but not just for her, and their freedom on her mind. Climbed back onto him and him in excitement smirked with anticipation, while she ran her hands behind her lifting her hair and bringing her arms down with the retaliation of every time he touched her without adhering to her cries of “no”, and blows that left her black and blue, lifting the handle of the knife, ramming it into him, doing it over and over and over and over and over and over again, sodomizing him as he did her. Clutching the knife in his flesh long after he breathed his final breath. She stared at those piercing green eyes until she could she his soul dying like he did hers, the red and green. She kissed his lips one time as a tear slid down her cheek, and said “til death did us part”. It felt like Christmas to her the rust flavored taste of blood on her lips is something she could never forget, she tasted it after she washed his stench off of her, she smelled it as she saw and heard the sirens flash, she tasted it in the water on the table in the police district, she tasted it at the stand in court, she tasted it when she walked free, she tasted it when she rubbed her stomach for the child who will never have a father. From now on she won’t live for her favorite drug, but the beauty that will blossom from the dirt - her child.