The stars

TW: Contains physical violence, harsh language, death, and mentions of miscarriage. (Those are so many warnings omg I’m so sorry.)

Have you ever found yourself fearing the stupidest thing ever? I have. And it’s not nice. You find yourself disliking, hating, escaping from something everybody else loves. But how can I help it when that took the one thing I’ve ever loved?

The stars. The fucking stars. 

“Ellie!” he screamed, “I’m talking to you right now.” Theo seemed mad… as always. I just looked at him, my face inexpressive at his words. A while ago I would have been scared, but not anymore. “For God’s sake Ellie, I’m trying my best here! I can’t do anything if you don’t listen.” 

My voice, calm, not caring about him anymore.

“I don’t care about what you say, Theodore.” When I saw he was about to talk again, with his face red and his dramatic expressions, I cut him off, “and I don’t know what you want out of this either.”

“You know damn right.” He spoke. The fact that he didn’t scream at me left me surprised, not that I ever told him of course, not that I ever got the chance either. But I could still see how his fists looked more hurtful with every second, didn’t it hurt to have his nails pressing that hard on his skin?

“Except I don’t.” He moved, and for a second I thought he was about to hit me. Instead, he just began moving from side to side, exasperated. I could see him sweating, but I wasn’t sure if it was the heat of the summer or his rage, although we were outside and the moon was already in the sky, I could also feel myself sweating. But I'm almost sure it was out of adrenaline as if my body knew what was about to happen after. “Now, if you’ll excuse me,” I interrupted the silence, “I have things to do, so if you could please leave my garden, that would be nice.”

“I don’t get it,” he whispered, yet it was loud enough for me to hear, “I don’t get you.”

“There’s nothing to get, not about the situation, not about me.” By this point, I had already walked up to the backyard door and opened it, giving him enough space to leave directly towards the street.

Theodore walked up to me, and my innocent self thought he would actually leave. Instead, he took my hand off the handle and slammed the door shut. A few birds flew away from a nearby tree and I, scared by the sound, jumped slightly and took a few steps back.

He realized I was scared. And that… that was not good, not good at all. 

“My darling–“

“Don’t call me darling,” I interrupted, and even if I was not scared of him anymore, I could hear my voice trembling, and that was when I realized I was not over him… I was not over my fear of him.

“Fine, Eloise,” his voice, deeper than normal and so calm that it gave me shivers, filled once again with rage and reminding me of bad times in my life, in our relationship, made me walk back, trying to get myself away from him, “I don’t care if you have stuff to do, I don’t care whatever you think it’s more important than this, than me… but you have to understand, I’m hurt, you hurt me, Eloise, you hurt me so much long ago.”

Great. And now he was playing victim. As he always used to do, he was trying to manipulate me into going back to him, into feeling guilty and running to his arms… running to my death.

“I am so fucking done with you, get the fuck out of my house!” I screamed, he didn’t move, he didn’t care, and he even smiled at me for a second.

“I know you’re scared, but don’t worry, I’m not mad at you, I know we can work this out together and–“ Before he could finish his sentence, I raised my hand and tried slapping him. But he didn’t flinch. He stopped my hand midway and began holding each time tighter. “I really don’t want to hurt you, Ellie.”

By then, I was frightened, and he could clearly see it in my eyes. He had the upper hand again and there was nothing I could do about it.

But you should never underestimate what a mother is willing to do for her child.

“This was all your fault.” My voice, just like his, sounded deeper, and for the first time ever since we began our relationship, I could listen to myself being confident. “I don’t care about what you want… You killed my child… You killed a part of me that night.”

He laughed now. Cynically.

“My fault? Oh, so everything is my fault now, isn’t it? That’s not true, please, Ellie… you were the one pregnant, you told me yourself once, you should have been able to protect her.”

He was once again using my words and twisting reality for me to fall, I did say that of course I did. But I never told him that. I knew, I really knew I wasn’t the guilty one, but can you blame me if I thought I was? I really was the one who should have been able to keep her safe, and I know I had to keep myself safe for her… but I didn’t, for some stupid reason that I can no longer remember, I stayed with him. I allowed him to beat me, to punch me that night, and I couldn’t do anything but look at the stars and hope for someone to come and save me.

“Yes, asshole! Your fault. You hit me, you beat the shit out of me. I was bleeding, I was dying!” I was screaming as I had never before at this point, and I don’t know how my neighbors didn’t watch from their windows what was happening… or maybe they did, but left when they realized it was just one more of our fights. “My daughter died because of you… I died because of you.”

His fury was obvious, and just as if the story was repeating itself, he pushed me. I fell down to the humid grass and felt a small pain in my back right before I was able to put my arms in a position to hold me up. I somehow managed to move aside when he threw his first punch, and I could see he had hit a rock. Theodore’s hand began bleeding, and I took advantage to crawl away from him, once I was away from his legs, I finally stood up again. But by then he was even closer to hurting me again.

I don’t remember much about that night, or at least that’s what I told the police, but I do remember clearly how his expressions changed drastically, and became more furious every time I managed to dodge a punch. I knew my backyard by memory, and I slowly walked backward while he still tried to do something to me until I reach my small garden where I had many fruits and vegetables planted. I took a lemon and threw it at him, it hit him in the eye and while he was trying to see clearly again, my hand reached for a big rock. The adrenaline running through my body was absolutely blinding, I could barely see, feel and know what I was doing. 

But I still don’t regret it.

When the rock hit his head, he fell to the ground. I took my gardening scissors –which were new–, pushed him back, and stabbed him with them. One, two, three times, and I lost count. It’s funny, you know… how I didn’t doubt it, not even for one second. All I could think about was my daughter, and how he was the guilty one that I never got to hold her.

Once I noticed he was finally dead, all the fear disappeared. It made me feel better. He was dead, my suffering had ended, and the world had one less abuser out there. I knew it wouldn’t bring my baby back, but at least I knew he wouldn’t hurt anyone else.

I fell down to the ground, tired, my hands covered in blood just like the night it happened. My back touching the grass, and the summer breeze made everything almost perfect. I opened my eyes and that’s when I saw them.

The stars. The fucking stars.