Eighteen and so unbelievably not me…I wasn’t true to myself. KM entered into my life and what a world-wind he was. His long blond hair, big blue eyes and ever so sleek silhouette caught my attention from across the room and we were a year of destruction him and me.
Life at home was a billowing pit of broken rules, late night arguments, and unfiltered words of reckoning. I hated it and wanted to be everywhere else but there. I felt trapped and wanted desperately to be free.
I left home and took shelter with KM and his mother. We had passion but it was so incredibly unhealthy. We dared each other to be something we weren’t in hopes of finding solitude. Drinking our cares away, staying out all night and flipping life to the wind. Life was spinning out of control…
He walked in the bathroom one morning, as I sat on the sink, blade in hand and blood dripping from my fingertips. I wanted to feel, yet I didn’t want to feel anything at all. The numbness of the blade split the skin one finger at a time. He put me in the shower and I sat on the cold, wet tiled floor, water running down my body as I watched the blood slowly circle the drain. It was as if I was watching my life drain with it and for some reason that was ok.
Our arrangement with one another came to an end as we were no good together. You see he had also been molested as a child and he learned to weave his sickness in and out of mine. The time came when I had to go and (“Hospital Stay” discussed earlier in blog) KM begged me not to leave. It took everything I had to say goodbye and never to look back. I closed my eyes, said a prayer and left only by chance.