Stumbling back, I hit the counter and a sharp pain shot up my spine and, in the process,
I also managed to bump my head against the cupboard above me.
I dropped the photos as I sat on the floor rubbing my head and checking for bleeding,
for the second time today, but fortunately there wasn't any this time.
For a moment I completely forgot about the clearly bigger issue, but that moment was gone all too soon.
Everything came back to me as I wrapped my arms around myself and lowered my head defeated.
I could feel a lot yet at the same time I felt nothing at all, I was completely numb, dissociated from my own body.
It felt like the room was spinning and I was nailed to a spot, every part of my body frozen in place.
It was ironic how despite perfecting my façade of bravery and act of strength in front of others my mask had managed to slip down in front of myself.
I was forced to admit to myself I was terrified and felt weak, it made me feel helpless, ashamed, and disgusted.
Appearing vulnerable was like admitting defeat, it was pathetic and also a luxury I simply could not afford.
'What am I supposed to do now?' I contemplated biting my nails in order to stop my hands from shaking.
I didn't stop, not until they had started to bleed, and my breathing had returned to normal.
I grabbed my phone and tossed my purse on the ground 'this is it! This is the last straw.
You have tolerated enough!' my subconscious screamed at me, and this was one of those rare moments where I agreed with it.
I always considered my patience to have no bounds which I believed to be my worst trait at times,
but I guess I too had my limits.
Limits that I had let people cross multiple times already, especially that freak and his mother!
Dialing the police, I held the phone to my ears and subconsciously started biting my nails again until I tasted blood in my mouth.
'What should I do? Is it even a good idea to call the police now? What if I anger them?
What if I lose the house? I signed the contract; can they still terminate it?'
The fear of the consequences and 'what ifs' poisoned my mind again and disconnecting the call before it had a chance to ring properly,
I held the phone in my hand and stared at the black screen.
'This is hopeless. I'm hopeless' I thought bitterly as tears of frustration ran down my face.
I felt suffocated and hot even when I couldn't feel my feet on the freezing tiles.
As usual I convinced myself that calling the police was useless, especially in this situation, calling them was too big of a risk.
'I should just shut up and tolerate them for a few more hours' I sighed.
'What would the police do anyways?
It wasn't like I didn't call them multiple times in the past and all they did was give him a warning and anger him even further, worsening the situation'
I convinced myself. Deep down I always knew he could go this far, and I always hoped and prayed that he wouldn't.
"Besides I don't have any evidence of the crime that he committed" I mumbled tiredly while I wiped my tears and stood up.
He always made sure that there was no evidence.
Every single time he managed to carefully orchestrate manipulating situations that would slowly eat at my sanity,
he left no evidence of his abuse.
Shivering I tried to shake the uneasiness and fear off of me,
yet no matter how hard I tried it still lingered in the dark corners of my mind even as the minutes turned into hours and the time ticked away....