Stoking The Fire

Chapter Six

Ordinarily, I love the sounds of birds, no matter what the time of day is. Today however, the cacophony of birds outside the office window is ruining my last-ditch efforts to get another hour of sleep in, and I finally get out of bed with a frustrated growl. I sit bent over on the edge of the futon, rubbing my gritty eyes while trying to clear the sandy fog from my brain. After several minutes I stand, walk over to the desk, collect my things, and head into the kitchen.

As soon as I step out into the hallway, I can tell immediately he's already gone off to work. The house just holds a different level of quiet when he's gone, even when compared to when he's simply outside chilling in his backyard, or quietly reading. I can't really explain it. Setting my stuff down on the island counter, I can see that there's no coffee left in the pot, but he has left out stuff for me to make tea with. That means either he drank all the coffee, took it with him, or he just thought I wouldn't be in the mood.

Groggily, I put the water on, and stretch while pacing around the kitchen, yawning incessantly. The last three weeks have been utter hell, mentally and emotionally. Living through four decades of narcissistic abuse on a daily basis is one thing, dealing with the aftermath as you just try to live a normal life is another. The memories are always there, and can be easily triggered by the stupidest things. Your very existence is based around your coping methods, and trying to train out your unhealthy triggers can be consuming.

Deliberately sitting day in and day out, forcing yourself to relive that trauma over and over in an effort to piece together the timeline of your life, so you can finally put an end to all the bullshit, is a completely different type of animal. I'm not really sleeping. I force myself to eat the most basic and easiest shit I can, so I don't have to deal with anything requiring effort. I can't even enjoy my favorite music anymore, I'm just listening to it because the silence makes me panic in a way I don't really understand. I've basically folded in on myself.

Nick called me his roommate, but the reality is he's basically adopted a super spicy feral kitten who hisses when anyone gets within a mile of them, hides literally all day, refuses to be around people, and only eats when no one's near, growling ominously the whole time. Every day I wonder how long it's going to be before he regrets his decision enough that he tells me he's got another safe house solution set up for me, and kicks me out. At this point I wouldn't blame him. In fact, that's probably a great idea, now that I think about it.

It's not that I want to be in this mode, I want to go back to the way I was before she started destroying my life again. Spending days cooking as much food as I can from scratch, blasting my music and singing my heart out while dancing like a moron just because I'm feeling myself that much. Taking my online courses to try and learn new skills and possibly get promoted or moved laterally. Spending time working on original story ideas, writing copy content for content management sites for extra money, spending time writing copy content as volunteer work for charities as a way to give back and donate what I'm able. Taking walks in nature, laughing with my coworkers, mock-yelling at my grumpy neighbors. I'm a shell of a woman right now and I hate myself for it.

Hell, as painful as it is, I wish I could enjoy the bittersweetness of living with this amazing man, but even that can't break me out of this funk. That's probably not the worst thing though, because one way or another I'd still likely be suffering. Unrequited love I could actually get over, though. I'd just have to get past this, and then find a good excuse to leave the house, and straight ghost. Childish? Probably. Best for my sanity? Yeah. Unfair to him? Not really. He doesn't need this kind of complication in his life, he's been through enough.

Finally, the tea is finished steeping and I take that first sip. At least I can still enjoy the bliss that is the first sip of hot, freshly brewed, perfectly balanced tea. Yawning again I walk back over to the island counter and spot something I missed the first time - a case file he had left on the end of the counter, face down. Curious, I flip it over so I can message him later and tell him he forgot it, when I see the name on the flap: Jack Walker.