Keep Out
TW: intimate partner violence
I can't sleep, and all I can think about is how I used to lay down on my back, usually hugging my pillow to my chest, and that's how I would fall. But now I curl up on my side, guarded, protected, tense. Or on my chest, arms wrapped around my pillow but never facing the middle of the bed. It could be nothing; it could be how my body finds comfort now; I spend all my time in bed. But it's not. It's the way I changed myself to sleep next to you, to barricade myself and pull up the drawbridge and close the shutters and hang a clear, unambiguous “Keep Out” sign on my body, door locked. But I think I've lost the key and anyway, you know how to pick a lock.
No and I'm comfy like this and l'm tired and I don't feel well and can we just cuddle? I love you and it's too cold give the duvet back and not right now and not ever again you fucking manipulative selfish evil bastard. It’s not enough. And it's not violent or cruel, like the strangers' hands or spiked drinks or muffled screams. Except it is violent and it is cruel because it's me, it's my body, it's my sense of worth, it's my autonomy, it's already stripped almost to the fucking bone and it's already lost to me and you understand and you hate those men, those greedy, violent vultures. And yet you claw at the remaining flesh. You're stronger than me and I tell you that, I know it makes you feel good and you struggle so much to feel good. You tell me taking care of me is what makes you feel good.
It doesn't make me feel good.
No not right now I don't feel good it's so cold without the duvet I'm just comfortable like this. Pulling me onto my back and wrapping your arms round me, pressing your chest against mine and your crotch against mine and my legs wrap around you let's just cuddle, I love you can I have the duvet back I'm just tired not right now I just want to be on my side I'm sorry I love you, my back hurts I don't feel good I love you. The weight of my eyelids and the weight of your body and your hands and my back hurts can we just cuddle I'm cold I'm tired l'm sorry l'm sorry l'm sorry, I love you. Your face falling, literally - I swear I can see it falling, and your eyes glisten, the potential to flood my bed, trying to fight off the urge to tell you to fuck off, you manipulative, selfish, evil bastard.
But l'd rather hear you moan than cry. And l'd rather not be able to stop your hands from touching me, I don't feel good just wait a minute just...I'd rather that. That over not being able to stop the words tumbling over the cliff of your bottom lip, over you voicing the desire for pills to tumble the other way, down your throat until you can’t move, can’t speak, can’t touch, never again. Your mouth saying the words mine can't. Evil. Bastard. Selfish. Manipulative. Fucking. Rapist. I'm sorry. I love you.
