“—couldn’t save me—none of this—”
She spirals.
“—your fault!Not mine!None of this was ever my fault, and yet you made me believe it was!”
She disintegrates and falls.
“—made me believe I didn’t deserve protection or love or evenlife—”
Down and down anddown.
Throwing everything within her at the spot in the dining room where her mother had taken her own life. Screaming at her like she can see her ghost.
“I was a child!I was not the reason you couldn’t get your shit together. Dad was not the reason—”
It’s every word that she ever wanted to say to her. Every word that she’s suppressed over the years, thinking that that was the only way to get past it. Every sentence she’s had to repeat to herself just to stop the blame once shoved down her throat.
I let her rage.
I let her throw and yell and break.
I let her shriek to the sky, her muscles edging as she releases her rage and pain.
I let her scream those words to the phantom of the person who tried to break her spirit and put the blame for their shitty decisions on her.
Because I know the fucking feeling.
I hold my jaw tight as I watch her, my soul fracturing with hers.
Dammit… it’s fucking beautiful.
And maybe that’s a pretty fucked up way to look at what’s happening, but after years of harboring it, of letting it fester and eat her from the inside, she’s breaking free.
I can almost see every rope and chain that had wedged itself tighter and tighter around her soul fall to bits at her feet. She wails and rips and releases everything until she drops to her knees.
Her head sags, her palms press to her thighs, and as the very last drop of rage leaves her, she begins to sob.
I’m standing in the foyer amongst broken porcelain and glass pieces. A silent tear stretches down my cheek as I watch her wipe her bloody hands on her exposed legs. And before she can dab her face, I sink to my knees before her.
I don’t care that the shards are cutting through my pants. I’ll pick the pieces out just as I have all the other times I’ve fallen on it.
Without a word, I press my knuckle beneath her chin and lift her to look at me. Her swollen red eyes meet mine, and she chokes as I lean forward to kiss away her tears. She wraps her hands around my wrists and sinks into me with closed eyes, and with every silent, passing second, I feel her breaths begin to even.
I won’t let her go.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers. “I’m sorry I lost control. Look at this mess—”
I pull back enough to gaze into her eyes. “Lookat this mess, Andi,” I say to her. “Truly look at it, and tell me… tell me it isn’t beautiful. Tell me this isn’tabsoluterhapsody.”
She stares at me like I’ve lost my mind, and I sit back so she can fully take in what I see.
“Because it fucking is,” I say, my voice thick as I resist my own emotions. “It’s fuckingyou. It’s everything your body held onto. All the parts of yourself that you thought you could never face. The parts you thought you had to erase just to live above water.”
She gags on her fervor and looks around us, and as she does, a heavy breath enters her lungs. I can see her taking it all in, see her processing my words.
She reaches for my hand and lays her head on my shoulder like she’s giving in.
“How do you make me feel safe for this?” she whispers.
