Beware of Second Chances

TW: Violence, Domestic Abuse

A beautiful, warm light surrounds me, as I walk down the narrow path. Everything is exactly as I had hoped. My white dress perfectly drapes onto the rose petals all over the ground. Everyone that I love is staring at me, and only me. Just as I’m about to reach the alter, a loud bell rings in the distance.

The loud noise startles me awake, but it takes a second to sink in the fact that I’m not at my wedding, but in my advanced chemistry class. I quickly gather up my stuff and head towards the exit. Just as I’m about to reach the door, someone grabs my arm. Flashbacks from a year ago cross my mind. Memories I had hoped to bury for as long as I live. As I turn to face my assailant, I’m face to face with my best friend, Andrew. My nerves begin to calm, “Andy! Don’t scare me like that.” “Sorry, but I just had to ask before you left, were you staring at Peter during the lecture? I thought you two broke it off?” I try to remember what he meant, when my daydream resurfaced. Realizing who was meant to be at the altar, I can’t let anyone know how I feel, not even Andrew. “What? No! I was thinking about how cute guinea pigs would look in fedoras. I just happened to be zoned out in his direction. We are so done. I mean he cheated on me for God’s sake!” “Okay, I was just checking, I never know what’s going on with you anymore. You seem more distant lately, is everything okay?” “Oh, yeah, everything is perfectly fine.” I answer, shoving down all my emotions that people label as bad.

The end of the day finally rolls around, and I begin the trek towards my car. Once my [Kia?] comes into view, so does Peter. “What does he want now?” I mumble to myself. The possibility of turning back now crosses my mind, until he calls out my name. “I saw you staring at me in chem class, anything you want to confess?” He arrogantly smirks. “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about. We are over, I’m not making the same mistake twice.” Even as those words escaped from my lips, the desire to be with him again swells inside me. I mean, he was there for me during my parents’ divorce. He was there for me when my dog died. He was always there for me, even if being with him meant hiding bruises a couple times a month. But no. There was a reason we broke up. I had found a different girl that he was calling babe on his phone, and I don’t date cheaters. “Oh, come on baby, me and Melany broke up. I miss you so much, please? I promise I’ll be better behaved this time.” He reaches out his hand. His eyes begin to glimmer with hope at the same time my stomach begins to fill with butterflies. “Really! Well, um, then maybe.” My daydream plays back into my mind, wedding bells ring in my ears. That day was something I dreamed about for as long as I remembered, and he was someone I wanted to share it with. “Okay, yes! Why don’t we hang out tonight, at my apartment.” I exclaim, trying to hold back my joy.

The next few days were as perfect as when we started dating the first time. We snuggled and watched movies, he got me food when I was sad, it was great. That is until we decided to have dinner one night. I had made pasta for us, knowing it was his favorite food. I could tell he had a rough day, so I wanted to cheer him up. “How are you doing?” I ask as I place the plate in front of him, then sit down. “I’m fine,” He mutters, staring at the food. “What is this? I asked for pork tonight, not whatever this is!” His voice begins to raise, as I feel my body tremble, just as it had before. “I d-don’t remember you ever asking f-for pork, and I know you like pasta. I was j-just t-trying to make you f-feel better. I’m s-so sorry.” My words shake just as much as my core does. “You better be, I can’t believe you right now!” He jolts up from his seat and tosses the plate of food onto the ground. “Clean it up!” He demands. I fall to the ground trying to gather the mess together, when he grabs my hair, digging his nails into my scalp. A cry escapes my lips, right as his other hand makes contact with my cheek. “You are so useless!” He shouts, then tosses me back to the ground. My hands and knees are met with the sharp edges of the plate on the floor, but I can’t seem to get my body to do anything. He mumbles something under his breathe, then goes into the other room. That’s when I finally break down sobbing. My mind fills with ideas of what to do next, but in the end, only one question remains, “What will everyone think?” I have debated telling others about what happens, but what if they call me weak? What if they take his side? I mean, everyone around him absolutely adores him. And what would happen after that? I decide to ponder these as I finish cleaning up the mess.

The next morning, I make sure to cover up the mark, that way no one asks. I practice my smile in the mirror, using a mask to hide my pain. Then I head towards my first class on campus. Once I’m in chemistry, I go straight over to Andrew. He’ll cheer me up for sure! “What’s cooking, good looking?” He drops his voice and raises his eyebrows with every word. “That was so cheesy,” I reply, not even trying to hide my laugh. We discuss a few other funny topics until the bell rings. I sit in my seat, completely forgetting about the night before. I mean, was it so bad, if I feel okay the next day? Luckily for me, Peter has work tonight, so I don’t have to worry about a repeat. The day after, though, has the same storyline as before, but this time, it was about me accidentally changing the channel, while he was watching baseball. In the end, I sat on the couch, face bleeding and red, tears streaked down my face, and no idea what to do next.

Before I know it, a month has passed. Andrew and I have officially fallen into the same routine from before, and my stash of concealer is starting to run low. One morning, I got up, side still in pain, from when he through me onto a chair, then looked in the mirror. The girl that stared back is not the girl I once knew. Suddenly, my 21-year-old self-shrank into the 10-year-old version I once adored. She was so cheerful and generous, but now, all that’s left is a hollow shell. “That’s it!” I shout, trying to sound surer than I am. “No one deserves to be treated this way, not even me! It’s time I end this abuse, once and for all.”

That night, we sat down at my kitchen island, my mind racing with what to say. “I-I think that we need to end things,” I stammer. “What do you mean?” His voice starts to raise, and at the same time, my head begins to lower. His eyes seem to stare into my soul, then suddenly he looks away for a sec, composing himself apparently. “But I had a surprise for you tonight.” He says in the sweetest voice he could manage. “W-what i-is it?” “I thought things were going great, so I” He stands up, then gets down on one knee. “Will you marry me?” My body is frozen, but my thoughts are going a mile a minute. This is what I had dreamed about for years. I could finally walk down the aisle in a beautiful white dress, finally the center of attention. The idea flooded my mind, until I’m snapped back into reality. “Well?” He utters, urging me to answer. “Well, um, no.” I squeak out. As those words escaped my lips, I saw rage begin to build up in his eyes. What have I done. I know exactly how this was going to end, but for some reason I didn’t feel scared. Being able to say no to him for once felt almost freeing.

He picks me up by my hair and tosses me to the ground, knocking over everything that was on the island. As he begins to raise his hand for the millionth time, I don’t feel my body tremble, the urge to flinch back in fear. Instead, I feel a burning fury boiling up inside me. Enough is enough. My hand reaches for the nearby fallen knife, and it stabs perfectly into his thigh. He jumps back and I take that moment to get up and stand to face him eye to eye. For the first time I have the power, and he knows it. My mind toils with the idea of his death or freedom, but everything he has done flashes before my eyes, all the blood, bruises, tears, pain, and the fury from before comes back full force. The knife in my hand drives into his chest, right where his heart would be. I pull the knife back out, the jam it back in. Blood covers my face, clothes and the floor around us, but all I can focus on is making sure he will never hurt me or anyone else ever again. After a few more jabs, his body falls to the ground. I thought I would feel remorse for killing him, but I couldn’t feel anything. Maybe it was shock, or maybe I finally just snapped. All I can do is stare at his unmoving body.

Suddenly, a knock at the door can be heard. I go over to open it, not even trying to wipe off the blood or hide the evidence. Once the door is open, I am met with Andrew. “Hey, I just wanted to check in…” Horror begins to cover his face as he notices the blood, then his eyes find Peter in the background. All he can do is scream, scream and run. The next few hours are a blur. The police are called, medics look at me, then I’m handcuffed and taken to a jail cell. After spending a few days in there, my court date arrives. By then, I’ve been able to comprehend what I had done, but even then, I felt no guilt. Once all the evidence was provided and looked over, the judge stared directly at me, into my soul, and the next sentence is exactly how I thought this would turn out.

“Do you plead guilty?” The judge asks, staring down from his high pedestal, watching my face carefully. Only two words come to mind, two words I dreamed my entire life to say, just not like this. Two words that seal my fate forever. “I do.”