Mynx Writes

October is Domestic Violence Awareness month. This is part three of a three part vignette that is an account of my experiences. You can read part one by clicking here , and part two by clicking here .  I do not recognize the woman in the mirror. She is not me. She is someone else. She frightens me, the woman in the mirror.  Her eyes have no whites.  They are bright blood red, and she won’t meet my gaze with her swollen-lidded, empty stare.  She looks beyond me, seeking an escape route that I cannot offer her, and her fingers play at her throat, which bears the impression of two hands, rendered perfectly in blaring black and blue. Choking me… can’t breathe… won’t stop… have to make him stop… oh God oh God oh God I can’t breathe why won’t he stop please make him stop… go limp… play dead… that will make him stop so I do I go limp I stop breathing hold my breath oh God please stop choking me I can’t… shhh… he’s letting go… don’t breathe yet… he’s letting go…don’t...

October is Domestic Violence Awareness month. This is part two of a three part vignette that is an account of my experiences. You can read part one by clicking here. It is morning.  The light outside is sharp, knifing into my bloodied eyes relentlessly.  Fresh snow has fallen to cover the red stains on the icy driveway, but I know that they are there.  “You don’t have to do this,”  he says, opening the truck door for me and helping me up into the seat.  Somehow, I manage to buckle my seat belt, gasping as my chest prickles in pain from being touched.  “You don’t have to do this,”  he repeats.  “You don’t have to go back.  I’ll stay while you pack a bag and I’ll bring you back here.” I hear what he says.  I comprehend.  He is offering me safety.  He is offering me freedom.  He is offering me peace of mind.  “I don’t know,”  I whisper.  Everything looks different in the bright light of day.  And I ...

October is Domestic Violence Awareness month.  This is part one of a three part vignette that is an account of my experiences. It is bitter cold and dark, and I am running. I have to get away. I have to get away. I have to get away. One foot in front of the other and I have to get away. He is going to kill me if I don’t get away. A car turns onto the street in front of me. One foot in front of the other… The headlights catch me off guard. I have to get away. One foot in front of the other, and I slip on the ice and fall. The impact of my knee against the pavement brings me to my senses. It is dark. I have to get out of the way of the oncoming car. I roll to one side, sobbing hysterically. The pain is unbearable. The car slows. I try to sit up. The car door opens and I hear a voice without comprehending who is speaking. “Jesus Fucking Christ! What the FUCK ?” I don’t have the answer. My mouth moves, but my throat chokes on silent shrieks. I can taste fresh...