H E A V E N forbid

• O N E •

It started with a simple Facebook message.
His blue eyes caught mine, the brown curls that wrapped around each finger, trapping them as my fingers went through it.
Nothing could beat his smile, crooked, cocky and something like out of a movie. The naturally straight, beautifully white teeth that popped through with every word he spoke. The smell of his minty breath, capturing me and not letting me go.

But oh, how quick those baby blues could turn black. That beautiful smile turn into something so sinister, and brown, tousled curls go wild with anger. The definition in his muscles would almost throb when he turned on me, his voice got deeper and his eyes got darker.

And my fear got heavier.

This happened more than you would think. All too often I felt as if I as walking on egg shells. My heart would stop, almost as if it was choking me whenever I thought I had done something wrong. My body would tighten, and I would hold breath, too scared to speak.

I remember carefully looking over my shoulder to see if he was even paying attention, most times he wasn't, giving me time to clean up whatever I had done. Sometimes it would be as simple as closing the cupboard too harshly.

     You could never tell what kind of day you were going to have with him. Not just as someone who was his girlfriend, everyone felt the need to walk around on their tippy toes while around him. One wrong look, word, move, and he could snap.  I had started to figure out the pin points that set him off a lot, the patterns, reading in between the lines. It was honestly exhausting.

    My life had gone from the most happiest to the most miserable in the matter of weeks. I had been living off province for four months, leaving him behind to forget about him. Never to come back.
    But I came back, mistake number one. Allowing myself to be so oblivious to his addictions, objecting everyone and telling them, "it's not even that bad," was mistake number two. I should have recognized how badly he needed those drugs, not even an want anymore, he couldn't function without them.
      Staying with him was mistake number three. I should have left when I had the multiple chances that I did, not crawl back each time he said he needed me or loved me. But heaven forbid, I'm a sucker for pain. 
 
      By the time I finally came to the conclusion I needed to get out of there, I was already in too deep, at that point, it was like fighting quick sand or an ocean current. The harder you fought, the more you sunk.