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Inspirational Sad Creative Nonfiction

This story contains themes or mentions of physical violence, gore, or abuse.

WARNING: domestic abuse theme, and a few cuss words.


If he says he won’t do it again, don’t believe him.


I scroll the letters across the top of the page, biting my fingernail down until the sensitive skin is burning for me to stop. I look down at it and let out an ‘oops’ in surprise. I wipe the small bead of blood on my blue jeans.


My attention moves back to the page, and I realize I haven’t addressed the letter to my future self yet. If I’m going to do it, I may as well do it right, eh?


To My Future Self,


I tap my pencil against the notebook with anticipation. What do I even say to myself? This seems too silly to proceed. My eyes dart around, half because I don’t want anyone to pick up on just how ridiculous I am for writing to myself, and half because I expect him to walk over any time and drag me back.


Those flowers, those gifts, those promises. They weren’t real. It’s called love bombing. You won’t get those moments back without the bad.


I dig what’s left of my nails into my fingertips to stifle the urge to scratch it all out and just throw it away.


That first night he hit you and told you that you were useless. THAT WAS THE REAL HIM. Hold onto that. He’ll always say otherwise.


I gulp down the bad taste in my mouth and continue.


You need to remember what he did to you. Forgetting only helps him. Remember the hours of cooking and cleaning you put in only to be told it wasn’t good enough. No, you remember the words. They ring in your ears every time you pick up a pot and pan.


“What is this? Are you serious? This is a joke, right? Nel! This is disgusting. What are you feeding me? Trash? You’re a shit cook! This is what I get for working ALL day while you do whatever you want. Fucking garbage?”


Remember the look on his face. Remember his hand closing into fists and the blood rushing to his fingers, reddening his skin as they tighten in anger. Then he hit you.


No. Remember them moving back just before they connect with your forearm as you cowered in the corner. Your right arm when you make another attempt to disappear into the corner cabinets of your kitchen. The blows that followed.


Remember them, Nel.


I suck in a deep breath to collect myself. The pencil falls to the grass, and I leave it be a moment, reminding myself why I’m doing this. Dr. Bell has your best interests at heart. She knows what you’ve gone through to escape.


She knows what it takes to not go back.


It was hard enough to spill all my dirty secrets to a therapist, but something about writing a note to myself in the future just feels sick. Of course, Dr. Bell didn’t tell me what to say to myself. But I already know what it will take to maintain the courage to move forward and rebuild the mess he manipulated me into being.


I must remind myself of the things he did wrong because he certainly wouldn’t. He will pretend they didn’t happen — at least not as I remember them. After all, my memories are always so foggy. I roll my eyes at the thought and pick up the pencil.


Remember the time you stopped talking to your family because they were the ones that didn’t actually love you.


Remember when he bought you flowers… Just to throw in the trash later that night.


Remember the words, Nel. You know them. They’ve haunted you the last five years. Worthless. Disgusting. Insignificant. Nothing. A nobody.


Remember him at his worst.


Remember why you left.


Remember why you cannot go back.


A lump forms in my throat and I have to stop. I can’t do it anymore. It’s too much, so I revert to a more positive tactic.


Remember your worth, Nel. You have so much talent and ambition. Get back to painting. Add those sunset yellows and blue skies back into your work. You deserve to be happy. Truly happy. And you don’t need anyone else to make it happen.


You know what, add in those grey skies too. They may be a part of you, but they certainly do not define you.


What is it that Christy Ann Martine once said?


My top teeth pull at the corner of my bottom lip, slowly trailing over a healing bruise that signaled the last time.


“I am terribly broken and know darkness well but the light inside me has a story to tell.” Go tell your story Nel.


I kneel over and let it out. Every confusing emotion that fights to be free as I battle the person I’ve become in his presence versus who I am and who I want to be.


***


I walk up to the top steps of a Domestic Violence Support Group my therapist referred me to and exhale my built-up anxiety and fears.


I squeeze the note in my hand as if I could draw in each letter, each word of warning, each note of encouragement. Draw it out of the lead etched into the paper and manifest it into my very being. I open each folding, counting each time the flap opens to keep myself in this very moment — to keep myself moving forward.


One…two…three…four…five…six.


The paper lays crumbled in my hand despite my every attempt to straighten it. The breeze attempts to steal the words I’ve scribbled onto paper just months earlier, but I tighten my grip. It has taken me a while to meet with the group.


I’ve debated it on several occasions, but it wasn’t until this morning that I felt strong enough to tell my story, to listen to others tell their stories.


I move my eyes straight to the very end. The reminder I need most.


MOVE ON. FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, JUST DO IT.


Love ALWAYS,

                Me.

And so, with that reminder, I walk into a new future. One where I finally choose myself.

May 13, 2022 15:21

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16 comments

Tawney Coleman
12:23 May 23, 2022

This is a great first person view on the struggles of leaving a domestic violence fueled relationship. It's sad, while also being inspirational to those in the situation. Great job!

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Brandi Yetzer
12:25 May 23, 2022

Thank you, Tawney :) I ALWAYS love reading your kind words and compliments!

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Shea West
02:54 May 23, 2022

Brandi, This is the first I've read of your stories! You're on the recommended stories list for the week. I think what you've written here is incredibly honest and tough. The descriptions of the abuser, the narcissism and how victims struggle to leave are things that women should never experience. Love doesn't hurt, not like this anyway. I liked how you wrote a letter, and reminded them that they can move forward!

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Brandi Yetzer
11:18 May 23, 2022

Thank you, Shea! I hope this means you'll enjoy more stories of mine as I get back into doing what I love best --- telling stories 😊 Also, wow. I didn't even know I was on the recommended stories list for this week! That made my day!

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Shea West
18:02 May 23, 2022

I'd be happy to. Which of your other stories would you like me to read?

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Brandi Yetzer
18:07 May 23, 2022

That's so kind! That's certainly up to you, although I think the first two I wrote for Reedsy are my favorites. Edit: 'Bloody Secret' and 'Paper Ghosts Don't Tell Stories' are actually my favorites, haha. I forgot about a 'One Night Stand to Remember.' 🤣 That was certainly one of my goofier ones.

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Aeris Walker
18:19 May 21, 2022

“You know what, add in those grey skies too. They may be a part of you, but they certainly do not define you.” Great line—I loved the mention of her going back to painting, to something she once enjoyed before the abuse. Makes the character seem much more real. Great job :)

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Brandi Yetzer
23:00 May 21, 2022

Thank you Aeris! I added that small bit after the fact and wasn't sure how much it really added to the story. I'm so glad to hear it was a good decision 😊

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Aeris Walker
23:20 May 21, 2022

Yes! Sometimes just one little phrase, even one extra word, is all that’s needed to take your story’s impact up a notch :)

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Anissa Waterman
07:57 May 21, 2022

Very moving. I worked with domestic violence victims and writing letters to themselves was one of the activities we did. Thank you for writing about such a hard subject.

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Brandi Yetzer
13:56 May 21, 2022

Thank you for the compliment! Stories like this one sometimes hit closer to home than we'd like to admit. All I can hope for with this one is that it touches the right people and gives them even an inkling of hope -- or even better, inspiration to leave the situation! ❤

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Chris Morris
06:47 May 21, 2022

I agree with Michal, this is very powerful. It feels very real. And I love how it ends on such a positive note too. Really good writing here, well done.

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Brandi Yetzer
13:59 May 21, 2022

Thank you, Chris! I appreciate you taking the time to read and compliment my story! It means a lot :)

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Michał Przywara
21:03 May 18, 2022

A powerful story. This situation is hard to imagine if you're not in it. What I appreciate is how unreliable the memory becomes, after constantly being told you're worthless and your version of reality being challenged. That makes the lies so seductive. And that's not even accounting for any emotional attachment. It reminds me of interviews I've read, from people who deprogram extremists. People who might otherwise be rational, who adopt an identity someone else designed and coerced them into. Except in this case the victim is "deprogrammi...

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Brandi Yetzer
12:42 May 19, 2022

Thank you for the great insight and advice! I love any chance I can get to put more focus on internal struggle from such a deep and dark first-person view. It really reminds me of my first story on Reedsy — Bloody Secret. Both are my favorites so far. And I'm absolutely flattered you found it to be 'powerful.' Thank you!

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10:31 May 31, 2022

How I Got My Ex Husband Back.. Am so excited to share my testimony of a real spell caster who brought my husband back to me. My husband and I have been married for about 5 years now. We were happily married with three kids, two boys and a girl. Four months ago, I started to notice some strange behaviour from him and a few weeks later I found out that my husband is seeing someone else. He started coming home late from work, he hardly cares about me or the kids anymore, Sometimes he goes out and doesn’t even come back home for about 3-4 days. ...

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