Promises Aren’t Meant To Be Broken.

[behindTHEmask]

Promises Aren’t Meant To Be Broken.
Shut your mouth, boy. Save yourself from drowning.

You kept telling me the same old story. You “loved” me with all your heart. You couldn’t live without me. I was the air you breathed—the attraction you needed to push forth to be better. You’d hold my head in your hands, gently running your fingers through my hair, telling me I was your angel. I was your god.

Through the early hours of the morning, I’d sit awake beside you, watching you inhale. I’d remind myself what you told me. These bruises, on both my heart and corpse, were nothing more than a mistake—a lesson for me to grow stronger. I’d convince myself you’d never lie to me, that everyone else were the only mendacious ones. You’d turn over, mumbling something in your sleep, and I’d jump out of fear. You’d swing your arm around my waist subconsciously and I’d freeze.

Every personality I owned was dead or on the verge of dying, and you were it's serial killer.

It was a winter night; the snow was falling on the distorted pavement. Tears froze to my face, and all I could feel was your wet breath yelling into my ear. I’ve blocked out every word you said, forgetting why it felt like a bullet was stabbed right through my pulsating heart. You violently grabbed my arm, jerking me down the tile stairs, leading me down into the subway. The walls were sea foam green, and it smelt like dead bodies. The tears came down faster, stinging the cut on my cheek. I still can’t believe you did this to me. Your grip tightened on my bicep. “You fucking wench.” My forearms broke my fall.

You were screaming again. This time you reached into your pocket. Your voice was telling me how I’d pay for what I did. I was being rude for not partaking in an event you planned for us, and now I was suppose to feel your anger.

I felt it every time you slapped my face with the barrel of the gun. I tasted it every moment the blood from my forehead landed on my lips. I could smell that cologne I used to fall head over heels for become forced into my face.

You stopped after my hair was caked in dirt—in my blood and yours. You looked at me with soft eyes whispering your apologies when you noticed my upper lip was swollen and my forehead looked like I ran my head through a paper shredder. Your fingers ran over the curves of my face, and your tears began to fall.

I wanted to push you away, but you’d stolen my strength. You stole my capability to stand up for myself, so I let you hold me while I waited for another stole to step into the underground station. A man who would want all my belongings would be safer than you. I could be reimbursed for everything he’d take. But you, you took more than any insurance company can make up for.

Ten years. Ten god damn years; wasted, and for what?

I closed my eyes, saving up my strength as you whispered that your promises to never do this again in my ear. I wanted to scream you’re a liar. You’d do it again the next time I refused to be your whore or refuse to say I love you in return.

It was a cycle you see; you were just too fucked up to see it.

I slid my hands into the pocket of the coat you were wearing. I didn’t have one; you said all I would need was your arms. You told me they’d keep me safe. Ironic, isn’t it? Those safe arms were used to destroy me, to take everything I had away from me so all I’d be left with was you. All you ever wanted me to have was you. You were selfish like that.

My slender fingers wrapped around the wooden handle. A smile crept upon my lips. I clicked it to see if it was loaded; you didn’t even blink. You were to caught up in the conversation of our future. We’d have two kids—Riley and Josh, and we’d live in a giant mansion. I wouldn’t have to lift a finger you said—at least until you wanted me for your personal pleasure.

Well, I’ll lift my finger for you one last time if you promise to be quiet forever.

The sound wasn’t as loud as I thought it would be. The mess was worse than I imagined. Your blood stained my blouse, molding it to my body. Your head fell into my shoulder, and I listened to your amount of breaths decrease.

First they were fast, struggling for more oxygen, figuring it would save you. Then, you gasped loudly.

Now you feel how I feel. You died in my arms, just as I had died in yours. Naturally, you won long ago, taking me as the prize, but realistically I am the victor. I got the last laugh, and you are the only one left suffering.