The Promises He Made

Sometimes when I look at him I could never imagine loving anyone else as much as I do with him. It used to scare me, realising how much I did. Yet sitting here watching his golden brown hair blow with the wind, his freckles on display with the help of a pretty sunset, and that smile of his that could cure anyones worst depression, I don't mind. Obviously it took me a while to get to that point, but after several years with him I can say the best decision was to not walk away. He taught me how to trust, he taught me how to be happy, but mostly, he taught me how to love. And not only to love, but to love the right way. In a type of way that forces you to completely give yourself, your trust and your love in the hands of someone else.  As he always says ‘ you will love the right way when it's the right person’, and I guess that's how it must be with him.

When I look back throughout the last few years of my life, the best moments have always been with him . It didn’t matter what we were necessarily doing , he always made it better. Like my Dads funeral; Worst day of my life. To put into words what I was feeling that day is indescribable. To even recall that day is indescribable because all I saw was the world in blur, over the endless weeks of sobbing. Yet, when I looked at him and felt his touch as he wiped my tear stained cheek, It was as if the whole world came to life again, or at least for a minute or so. And to be honest I don't know how I would have survived that day without him. 

For the last five years he has been the only consistent person in my life . For the last five years he has promised me in every way that he would be the one person to never leave, to never stop loving me, to never hurt me . And with all my heart I can say I love him.

I truly love him.

He now looks at me with his beautiful dark eyes as I lay there, daring me to do something, yet inherently knowing his won. The room stays still, the sheets twisted amongst my privates being the only separation between me and what was to come. Yet we both knew what was coming, at least I did. I wonder if this had been his plan all along or if this just happened in the enlightenment of the present moment. He looks at me with those pretty , pretty eyes that once told me he adored me when his words never could. I sit up yet he's still above me, always above me with those green eyes , those now dark eyes. 

‘Please’ he says .

 ‘No’. 

It doesn't matter. 

He caresses me with what he tries to make feel like love, yet that’s not what it was. 

The only present moment I recall were my eyes darting across his room as I lay there wondering how I would tell him this was nice afterwards. Because if not for me at least for him right? His eyes lay between my thighs yet darting along the entirety of my body . 

I don't want this. 

I cup my hands in front of me, blocking him, trying to say no with my actions because he destroyed my ability to talk. He moves my hands one by one. I don't know why I still question the fact that I did not want this. 

I said No. 

He did not listen. 

You did not listen. 

He eventually stops. The movement stops.  He looked happy after he realised what he’d done. It was the same smile  I saw whenever he whispered I love you .  His smile beams at me before wiping his  mouth. I sit up as if it didn’t happen, but as he kisses me I no longer smile. 

‘Was that good?’ , he says. 

‘Yes’, just as I rehearsed. 

As I walk outside the fresh air hits me, the rain, the clouds, my mother waiting for me. He smiles at her and she smiles back. See I think I was happy, I was smiling, but something was different, he was different now, and now maybe so was I. The sky doesn’t seem as bright anymore, and whenever I think about that day, it seems so very dark. 

Once I leave he sends me the ritualistic ‘I miss you’ text. 

He kissed me afterwards and seemed so happy. I kissed him back. Yet the more I was in my head the more the world began to turn miserable and dark, he made it turn dark. 

He says ‘I love you’, yet the lines on my wrist say something different. Because that day he did something, he changed me. When it first happened I was confused , but I'm no longer confused about the fact that it was wrong, I’m confused as to how he did this to me and how he continues to live with himself.

I now sit in my room , alone. Yet whilst I'm alone he's still here. He has always been here, twisted among the deep inner works of my mind, among the most intimate,  the most vulnerable parts. Because whilst I can still recall the moment he destroyed my young world,  I cannot imagine the way his mother would look at him if she knew. If she knew that every day since that afternoon , my days have been hell, my days have been filled with the imagination of death, and nothingness, because feeling nothing at all for the rest of eternity would feel better than living another day being able to recall that moment. 

For the last five years he had promised me in every way that he would be the one person to never leave, to never stop loving me, to never hurt me . 

He promised to never hurt me.  

I now look at him as his skin glows from the sun, his golden brown hair blowing with the wind. And the only thing I can think of is that he disgusts me and no amount of  hatred could ever compare to what I have towards him. 

I hate him. 

I hate him.