Tick Tock


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1. Tick Tock

 

Tick tock. How many hours?

Four.

Four long hours since I saw your perfect face.

Since they tore you out of my arms.

Since I broke down and cried for the first time in months.

They soaked my face, and once that was saturated and my eyes were attractively puffy, leaked down, onto my shoulders, chest, and my knees clutched against them. My heart is a gaping wound, torn from me as you were taken. My knees hold in my innards, all my guts that seem to be falling out while simultaneously falling down, down to the bottom of my very soul. I wonder sub-consciously if eventually, they'll just drop out as I float unknowingly through life, and I'll just be an empty shell. Maybe that will be better; maybe then the pain will ebb into nothingness. Maybe then I can close my eyes and drift...

 

Time passes at a snail's pace, even during sleep. In the moments I doze off, I'm plagued with nightmares of what is happening to you. Beatings? Dead? I shake. I can't stop. I'm so cold.

The tears start at a wave of a hand, a dismissive 'he'll be fine'. You won't be fine. I can feel it, deep in my bones that at currently being eaten alive by little worms of doubt, chewing on my flesh and making the pain even harder to bear. I pray I'll fall asleep and be rid of this pain, but all sleep brings is more pain, more pain, MORE PAIN. I can't escape. Maybe if my hands caress the flame... But that will make your job no easier. I must be strong. For you. For surely, you're being much stronger than I am. I can see you now, facing them, with the defiant curl in your lip as you stare pain straight in the face, staring him out much better than I ever could. I'm always so crippled. You're always the strong one.

I hope to God they've not broken you.

 

Five hours. Longer.

Time's speeding up, but is that what I want? Every second pushes me a moment further from seeing you. I need you, right now. They're on the phone, talking about you, and I'm straining to listen. She used the word - 'girlfriend' - and that's the only thing that could break though the wall of tears that has set up permanent residence on my cheeks. That and if I could see you. Just to see you. Check you for fresh bruises that the drunken hand left, kiss them better if they're there, breathe a silent sigh of relief if they're not. Watch for your smile, tentatively smile back as I check for the fake glint that hides behind a pretend smile. I can read you like a book. And you've left me on a cliff hanger.

 

Are you thinking of me? Or have they brainwashed you? Do you think it was a good idea, after all? Have you moved on with your life, and left me sitting in a puddle of my own tears? They say you're stable. That's something even you can't fake. Maybe something I can't even fake, with my years of 'talented' experience in hiding my feelings. Do you realise how much I'm hurting? Please, one text. I just need to know you're okay.

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