I stomped out of the house and slammed the door. He'll probably be worried. He'll probably follow me but I don't care. Maybe I wasn't ready before but it's different now. It's not just anger this time. I don't even hate him anymore, it's bigger than that. I have to get out. I need to escape from his continuous suffocation and his vile words. His shrill scream and his ice cold stare. That grin of deception right before he picks up the only thing he really loves, his 5 Iron, raises it in a sweaty clenched fist and charges at me. You wanna know something funny? One time he said to me, "baby girl, you know I love you right? You know I'd never do anything to hurt you. I know I get mad sometimes baby but I'd take a bullet for you in a second. It's tough, you know, this here, what I'm goin' through and all." My mind races through these miserable conversations now as pearls of perspiration begin to prickle down my hot neck. My heart pounds in my chest like it must want to get out too, the way I do. The long wispy grass scratches against my underdeveloped calves but I don't feel it. I can't feel anything. My body is numb, my rage is blind and I hear nothing. Nothing but the wind rushing past my ears and his voice in my head. Can't get his voice out. I hated that, you know, the way he called me that. Baby. As if I was two or something. Mama was the only one who ever understood me, I mean, really understood me. She said Daddy named me Isabella because he thought I was beautiful. He doesn't think I'm beautiful. I'm not beautiful, but he doesn't think I am anyways. I'm betting Mama just said that 'cause she wanted me to love him, or give him credit or something. Like he deserved that, like there was something I didn't understand, like that makes up for him being the way he is. And suddenly I'm falling. I look up and all I see is dust all over. The rocky dirt slides under my palms and it scrapes into my knobby knees. It doesn't feel real, like it's all a dream or something and this isn't really my life, as if I'm here but I'm not really here. And then my back slams slowly into the weeds and it's over. I'm stopped. It's strange but I feel safe here. Safe, as long as he's not with me. I sit up and look into the sky as the rain starts to fall. Big spattering drops come down faster and faster and faster until I'm soaked through and shivering, lying alone in the patchy stretch of land with nowhere to go and no reason to look back.
August 14, 2010