Maybe he doesn't hit you?

He’s doing it again. I can smell it.

Does he actually think I can’t notice it?

He must think I’m stupid. How can I even ignore it for the night, the smell of it makes me physically sick.

I sit there and nod as he tells me some story about his work, slurring his words.

GET OUT NOW....A silent voice in my head screams.

MAYBE HE’LL CHANGE....I silently scream back.

But who am I trying to fool. He needs help and I need to realise that he isn’t going to change for me 

no matter how many times I beg.

I look back at him concentrating on what he is trying to say.

I drink in every inch of his face. 

The only good thing was that I was never in love with him I wouldn't allow myself. 

I don’t think I ever could be in love with someone who has put me through so much heartache.

SO WHY ARE YOU STILL HERE? the voice silently screams at me again.

All the memories come flooding back like someone is playing a video in my mind.

The time he smashed our front door, when he kissed someone else, finding the bottles hidden under my bed and in the bathroom, our holiday when he was so close to hitting me but smashed the room up instead.....

All the feelings wash over me: sadness, regret, the feeling of being scared, heartbreak, loneliness.

What will my mother say?

What will my friends say? or do they already know?

Am I a push over?  

Doesn’t he seeing he’s ruining this? 

We could be happy. 

I'm too young for this I shouldn't have to deal with it.

I always thought I was a strong character before I met him and that if anyone treated me badly then I would be able to walk away from it all.

But when it’s happening to you it’s much harder.

I’m not in love with him, but clearly I care for him.

Where are you going? I ask him as he stands up swaying slightly.

Bed he replies as his eyes roll in his head.

My bed you mean. 

Go home to your own house is what I want to tell him, that I can’t stand the 

thought of lying next to him when he’s in this state.  

I don’t have it in me to argue and I know it’s better to give in.

What if he went home and drank even more, at least I can keep an eye on him here.

As I follow him into the room he’s asleep in seconds, alcohol fumes fill my room.

I lie down beside him not wanting to touch him. 

Flinching as he wraps his arm around me.

I stifle a cry and another night of fitful sleep ensues.

Dreams turn into nightmares and the nightmare continues as I open my eyes and see him beside me.

________________________________________________________________________________

It’s been a few years now and I finally escaped.

But not before he left me with scars.

Not physical scars.

Instead the scars are ones you cannot see.

Sometimes they’re the ones that hurt the most.

X