Thursday, March 8, 2012

3 to 4

Seven years in, three years out.

We are visiting friends out of state.
He is being so awful.
I feel sick.
He hides this behind closed doors, but not this time.
This time, he is being open about it.

What are you? Fucking stupid? God, you are worthless. Don't even bother talking to her. It's just her. 

I watch him and realize I need to run.
It is getting worse. 
What is next? 

I decide to get out, to leave. But first, I try to make it through the party.
I lure him back into the house for a quickie, hoping it will calm him down.

I let him yell at me while he does it.

It works.
He calms down.

I make plans to leave.

One quickie leads to
a little pink line...
We are going to be four soon.

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