Poppy

He’s tied me down, so I can’t escape. I pull, but my hands are stuck. Bound to the steel frame. One more minute and he’ll be back. My wrists scrape frantically against the knots that are holding me captive. It feels like I’m holding them over an open fire. The pain is unbearable. Undeniable. I ignore the tears that slip past my nose and into my mouth, soothing my moisture-less lips with salty salvation. Hair clings to my forehead as I grit my teeth and try again. I tug. Yank. Try to wrench my hands free. No use. If I’m ever going to get away, I need to do it now. But, Hell, I’m tired. So tired. I haven’t slept for days. Weeks, even. Maybe it won’t be all that bad tonight. Maybe he’ll let me sleep. Maybe.

No. I need to do this. Freedom is my beautiful delusion. My only dream. I have to leave tonight. If I don’t… well, let’s just say I might not survive the night. My naked feet creep down the bed, pulling my bare body along with it. I urge the strength to surface. Come on – just one more try. My body rises and flops violently on to the mattress like a fish out of water, its springs angrily jabbing at me as I collapse. This isn’t working. What am I going to do? I feel so useless. He’s not so bad. Just one more night and it’ll stop. I’ll walk away. I mean that. Honestly.

This isn’t helping. Right – if I slide my hand this way and that, slip it around and pull… just keep pulling… damn! There’s no way I’m getting out of this. He’s got me exactly where he wants me. I gaze down at my body; my arms are stamped with plum bruises like a letter crossing the border. He likes to see me hurting. Why do I let him? Why do I need him? I hate him. But he makes me feel so good. Like I’m alive. He takes away all my problems. Why is this so difficult? God! Maybe one more night won’t hurt. Then it’ll be over. Finished. End.

What day is it? Tuesday? No – it can’t be. The shadows have grown since I last woke; they dance as gracefully as ballerinas, rising and falling repetitiously, across the far wall as incandescent light blinks from passing headlights. Sweat trickles down my back as I tackle my restraints. It’s so hot in here. He must’ve turned the heating up. He likes to do that. I blow warm air at my limp hair. Might as well give up. Nothing seems to be working. I’m stuck. But I can’t give up. Not now. That’s what he wants me to do. I’m stronger than that. As strong as…oh, what’s the point? I’m not going anywhere. I’m weak. He’ll find me anyway. He always does. I’ll never truly leave his clutches.

Just stop and think for one minute. This isn’t the way forward. I know I can do this. I can. I’m sick to death of hurting. I just want to be myself again. Something he won’t let me do. So now’s my chance, right? But I love him. What will I do without him? Where will I go? He took me in when I was lost. And this is how I repay him? After all he’s done? No. No, I can’t leave. He might hurt me a little from time to time, but that’s it. I know he loves me. He does. One more night. One last time. Of getting high from an all-time low.