painkillers. - H.S ✔

i run

I woke up this morning with a splitting headache. It felt like every little bit of my brain was being strained as much as possible. Maybe it was the thought of the upcoming event or maybe it was the stress and annoyance of Trent's recent actions.

I turned over to check my phone, it lay on the bedside table, the screen shattered from Trent pushing me into the lamp. The lamp still stands broken in the living room, I swept up the pieces of the lightbulb and tossed out the snapped cord but everything else stood there. The room was left in darkness now.

4:34 am

I wondered why I was up so early, and why Trent wasn't filling the empty spot beside me. I hadn't been getting up early lately because I felt that there was no point. Trent only ate cereal in the morning, what was the point of getting up to pour milk and cereal into a bowl? But Trent doesn't leave for work at 4:30 in the morning.

I pull myself up out of bed and stumble into the wall beside me while doing so. I hold myself up and rub my temples to soothe the headache.

The door is slightly ajar and I pull it open, regaining my balance. A cool breeze hits me as soon as I exit the bedroom and my headache lessens a little.

There's shuffling in the living room and I pause for a moment, listening closely. There are no voices, just quick movements. Although the living room is dark, the single fluorescent light in the kitchen is on and flickering as usual.

A girl tiptoes from the kitchen to the front door, she struggles to pull the strap of her beige purse over her shoulder. Her hair is a mess, I can see the knots that curl up around her shoulders and her once plum lipstick fading into a circle outlining them. She has one grip on the front door and the other on her phone.

She doesn't even notice me standing there in the darkness of the hallway. She leaves the apartment and I'm stuck standing here like an idiot. In my apartment. Decorated with my furniture. And he invited another girl to spend the night.

Is my cooking that bad? Are my moods that terrible? Am I that annoying? Do my kisses still taste like tears? Or is Trent just a terrible person?

I don't even bother looking for Trent in the dimly lit apartment. I just do whatever the hell my body and unconscious mind has been planning to do since the moment I met Trent.

I run.

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American hotline for domestic abuse:1-800-799-SAFE (7233).

Website link for more information and numbers:
http://www.thehotline.org

Watch these:
https://youtu.be/WL3rfk2iFww
https://youtu.be/hhHdIhfK7LQ
https://youtu.be/5Z_zWIVRIWk

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