Based on a True Story

I didn't know what love was, but I knew what it wasn't. TW: domestic abuse and child abuse

TW: domestic abuse and child abuse.

I was five foot nothing and a hundred and thirty pounds, fresh off the plane from Central America where I’d puked my guts out for months. I stood under the yellow streetlight at midnight with my head dipped and hot wet tears dripping on the sidewalk below. He was ten years my senior and thirteen inches taller and he stood close, his hot breath raining down on me, berating me for something I can’t even remember now. It wasn’t the first time.

The last time was years later and on the phone from three thousand miles away, his voice commanding while I gulped back sobs and inscribed the despicable words he was calling me in the deepest darkest part of my brain where I thought if I ignored them I would forget them but I never did. A year later I stood beside his bride as she convented herself to him, saying with my dress, my bouquet, my presence that I supported their marriage. I still feel sick about it.