I Know You're Not Reading This

I know you're not reading this, but I still hate you. I always will. What gives you the right? I'm holding onto the hope you won't come back but if you do, count yourself dead.

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1. Killing My Life

I know you're not reading this, but you're still with me. You're eating away my happiness and I can't think straight, I just feel scared and broken. What is mine, is mine. It will stay mine for as long as I live. So what gives you the right to come in and take it all away? My connections, my photos, my history and my life. It lived in my house, where I thought it was safe. Now my house is empty.

"Hurry up you plonker! If we had all day, we'd wouldn't be who we are!"

I was half asleep and I must have been dreaming.

"Sorry! But this is heavy!"

I was wrong. I got up and jumped out of bed. Robbers. I'd known of it happening, but I thought I was safe here. These flats were on the main street, even at night pedestrians, cyclists and drivers crowded the streets constantly. It was hard to sleep as it was. But just outside my room, they were emptying my house of its contents.

"Jay!" I hissed. My tired boyfriend rolled over and looked up at my wearily. He was about to sleep again.

"Hurry up!"

Jay got up and clutched my hand. I guessed it was two males, one carrying the load and the other hurrying him along. Jay grabbed the doorknob and nodded at me. I shook my head. He emerged from the bedroom and into the living room, where silence desended. There was panted breaths, a clatter and the door kicking down. I ran out and saw Jay laid out on the floor, the door hanging ajar. The young lad turned back, grinned and ran for his life.

You don't own me, or my family. Jay may have moved on but he knows I'm still scared, and he doesn't leave me alone at any time. They came in the night, the reason for my recent insomnia. I keep thinking I see the young lad walking down the street but I don't. I wish I did see him. I take him to the police station and there he'd get sentenced. My life would be back again. A life of my own.

 

 

 

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