The End is The Beginning
The darkness is pushing in on me like a palpable entity and I am trying not to panic. I imagine taking a deep breath and re-centering myself before trying to remember how I ended up here, alone in the dark. I let the memories flow over me like ocean waves, surging forward and then lapping at the edge of consciousness as I orient them.
A coffee cup, shattered, its contents sprawled across the peeling linoleum. His face suddenly looming in front of mine with anger contorting his eyes into those of a savage predator. I flinch as his acidic voice crawls across my skin, listing my sins for me, as if I could ever forget them.
“If you only had a brain you wouldn't be so damn clumsy. I bet your dumb ass won’t even clean it up right and the floor will stay sticky for the next week. How did I end up with such a stupid, nasty girl?” The stale stench of alcohol invades my nose, gagging me.
I sink to my knees and begin to gingerly pluck the shards of glass from the mess and I can feel his eyes on me, burning into my body like lasers. I ignore the pricks of pain as tiny piece find their way into my skin, not wanting him to have the satisfaction of my pain just yet. As I wipe up the last of the brown liquid guilt I feel large hands shoving me aside.
“Go away, go away! I’ll do it myself. You won't do it right, you’ll leave glass everywhere. You’re blind as a bat no wonder you never clean anything right!” Every word feels like a physical blow as I shrink farther away, wishing one of the cracks in the linoleum would just open up and swallow me.
He turns on me again, veins popping in his neck. I imagine he might give himself a heart attack and a smile flits briefly across my lips. Not quick enough, he sees it and the effect is like fuel to the fire. Like a raging bull he comes for me, fists balled. His words are incoherent now. It doesn't matter, I know what they are. Stupid, nasty, clumsy, worthless. Bad, bad, bad. Words and fists and spittle rain down on me relentlessly.
I muse on how long it took to get to this point. Day after day of melancholy memories as far as my mind can see. I had wished for death so many times but it seem as far away as Oz. Its sweet release always promised, but snatched away at the height of misery. The clock on the kitchen wall ticked, unfazed by the crimson trail across its pristine face.I reassess the darkness around me and feel the finality of the coffin walls pressing in. I welcome the pressure and take comfort in the knowledge that I am finally here. Time is the longest distance between two places.