February 8th, Year of Silence

I swear it now, I am clean. There is not an ounce of dishonesty in that sentence. It is all over, and past the hill. I cannot be found where I was last placed, and The Corpse has enough shame to not seek.

 

Eventually, it will all unravel to reveal a treasure, or nothing at all. It is in being faced with the latter, just when one was prepared to build a kingdom funded by a child‘s weight in gold coins, that will lead to a loud insanity. But not for me. I am not unsettled, after finding nothing. I am glad for it.

The infrequent laughter Joseph and I shared, was always so heavy with hurt. What had weight, was harmed by it. What needed substance, lacked it. There were no promises ever made that could survive the night. Those with better sense would have seen they were in a building in such a state of disrepair, that they would surely lose life or limb, if they did not quickly see a way out of it. But Joseph chose to stay, and he would not let me move without an act of desperation or violence.

Last night, after Joseph recited a speech centered on the topic of love and how he lacked any for me, I asked that he control any urges to see me in the future. He passively agreed. It was then that a primal fear invaded me. He had passively agreed so many times before, only to hunt and trap me days later. My soft complaints barely registered. Most would say I was a willing hostage. And while I knew holding such an opinion was an error, it was clear that there would be no hero appearing through the rain to save me, as there had been no evidence of his existence yet. So why hadn’t I made a more forceful attempt to escape?

As The Corpse turned to walk away from me, I stopped him. I needed to say something that would cause him to turn away forever. Something that would produce a permanent sense of repulsion, when thoughts of me came to mind.

“I know why your mother never loved you. How could she? Look at you. It is obvious that you will never amount to anything. You have been worthless the whole way through. Not one other person can say that they have so thoroughly failed at everything they have done. Your father can see that, too. It is why you will always be alone. No matter how desperate your need for affection, you will never gain the approval you long for,” I said.

And just like that, my voice left. Not because I had run out of things to say, but because his hands were firmly gripping my throat.
He let go after I had slumped over his shoulder, half-unconscious. We sat in silence as I regained full awareness. Then, he told me to go home and sleep.

I would spend the next week in a stupor. He has offered no apology, and I have none to spare.

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February 8th, Year of Silence

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