The burden i bare. By JB HART

Trigger warning: domestic abuse

THE BURDEN I BARE   

The middle of the night cracks in. I look at the time as She sleeps next to me. Can't think for even a second before the sudden need for alcohol fills my bloodstream. I can't stand being sober. That’s when the bad thoughts creep into my head like a nightmare I try desperately to get rid of but can never seem to shake.  I open the fridge to find it missing from its usual place. That fucking bitch probably moved them thinking “I've been drinking too much” If she knew me, she would know that I haven't drank enough to calm the demons that never stop filling my head. 

 I head back to the room and look at her sleeping body angrily. I know she hid them; she can't stand to see me happy. She wants me to be miserable for the rest of my life. That’s the only reason she would move them. I shake her awake. “WHERE ARE THEY!” I scream as my internal demons become external. “Kevin, your scaring me” She says faking her fear. Everything in my heart is telling me to stop but my head is telling me I'm right. I throw my hand and smack her repeatedly across the face. “Where is It!” I can't stop myself. She stands up and frantically tries to grab something. The fear in her eye will always haunt me. She reaches for her digital clock and smacks me across the face with it. Covering me with blood drip from my face. She throws some clothes on as I lay there in my blood-soaked carpet. I feel nothing but shame and regret. As soon as she's dressed, she screams near the door that she “Never wants to see you again.” I lay on the floor as my blood spreads onto the carpet. I turn my head sideways and see where I put it as my face turns pale white at the realization that the beer was next to the bed. I stand up and hold my palm against the cut on my face. I pick up my four pack and squeeze it angrily. I let out a scream loud enough for the neighbors two floors up to hear. I throw the cans as hard as I cannot even looking where I through them smashing the window in the process. I breathe heavily as the cold air comes in. This is my greatest shame. The burden I will always bare.  

Six months later  

I stand outside the house daring myself to knock on the door. They say in the program that it's good to make amends for your past mistakes. Then I wonder why it feels so wrong. After all we hurt each other, But regardless of the past I needed to do this. To get some closure. If that even exist in the day in age where we can just block anyone that shows us the slightest discomfort and it'd be out of sight and out of mind. 

The rain doesn't stop pouring as it courses down my face. Dripping with every second as today is the day I decide to not wear my hoodie.  

I stand in the front of a pearl white door, that looked like it hadn't had a fresh coat of paint in years. Finally, I take a deep breath and knock hard three times on the door, to make sure she hears it. Waiting for anticipation as my hands leak gallons of sweat. I can hear loud thunderous footprints walk towards the door before she opens it.  

“oh hey...Mina” I asked hesitantly with a half-smile that I'm sure revolted her to her stomach. She searched me up and down with her eyes and opens the door wider. “What are you, doing here.” She asked me with that stone-cold face that always had that uninviting edge that never seems to stop seeping through as if being nice is a foreign concept.  

“Are you drunk!” She asks grabbing something out of eye level, most likely her baseball bat or a knife. A baseball bat is too good for me at this point.  I can barely make a sound before I had to cough to just get the words out of my life.  

“I know you must hate seeing me, but-” She cuts me off as soon as I place one foot forward. Something makes a loud bang and she pulls out a kitchen knife 

“back up. Now.” She states as I back toward a safe two-meter distance from her to give her the option of hearing me out. If she closes the door or slams it in my face that would be the end of it, and at least I could say I tried.  

“I can explain” I tell her with the worried look of a cow about to be dropped off at the slaughterhouse. Frantically panicking even though I made the decision to try and ease my conscious. I made the decision to come here and hold my self-accountable for the mistakes of my past. She just happens to be the biggest one.  

“Explain what? You physically overpowered me. You punched me in the face in the middle of the night because I moved your beer. I Was trying to help you. My partner my lover. You're lucky I didn’t call the police.”  

“I know, I know, I was sick. and if you never want to talk to me again, I completely understand. But please before you close that door forever” I state preparing to get on one knee as I look into her eyes.  

“Please let me explain” I stare into her soul with my water-soaked eyes. It's funny, if dad was here, he would have kicked me in to stomach for showing weakness to anyone of the opposite sex. And look where that got him. I will be better.  

“You have two minutes” She asks as her usual jaded self with those eyes that could stare into your soul and leave anyone speechless just by the mere sight of this walking goddess. She will forever always be my biggest mistake.  

I pick myself up and wipe the dirt off my knees as I can barely manage to make eye contact with her and by extension the mistakes of my past.  

“That was my rock bottom, I've gotten help and I went to rehab. They said that I needed to make amends. And there is no one I could think of who deserves an apology as much as you. That’s why you’re the first person I wanted to say sorry to. And I am sorry. I'm sorry you had to even breathe the same air as me and all the pain I caused you, This isn't some tactic  or underhanded manipulation to get you to love me again or feel sorry for me, or even forgive me. Because we both know I don’t deserve it. I just wanted to let you know that I've gotten better. And I'm sorry. Goodbye forever. I wish you the best.”.  

I turn around and start walking from her front driveway, as the rain starts to get heavier and heavier as the seconds pass.  

“I don’t forgive you.” She states with her arms crossed, still standing in her doorway expecting me to flip out into a rage. But it's not the same anymore. My shame is my burden to bear despite no one knowing the self-loathing inescapable thoughts of my mind.  

I stop myself before I'm ready to walk off and turn to face her. “I know.” I admit as I turn around and turn towards the storm. It may not be a happy ending. But at least it was real. And at least she knows the regret I have and always will have for the rest of my life. That is the burden I bare.  

Maybe I'm not a good person. Maybe I never will be, But I can try to be. After all isn't that what it's all about?