Two and a Half Hours…

 

Two and a Half Hours…


Life stood still…

stopped breathing,

stopped pulsing…

the instant I realised

I had stepped into the wrong place

and before the wrong person.

A morning very calm

What should have been so refreshing,

Unfolded as the cruelest nightmare,

I ever lived…


Tensed.

Numb.

Frozen.

Heart racing like a trapped bird,

breath shallow,

I could hear myself…

see myself…

like a reflection

hovering outside my body.


I begged,

voice breaking,

“Leave me in my world,

and stay in yours.”

In return came a blow,

partially felt,

my cheekbone turned to stone.

A fire seared through my stomach,

tears rolled,

throat ached,

words silenced by anxiety.

My mind went blank.


To my shock

the rogue returned,

eyes wild,

hands trembling with madness,

a knife gleaming like a shining half moon

thrust into my hands,

his voice a jagged whisper:

“Either me or you.”

At once…

Like a hammer, that struck my head 

I fell into the abyss 

Drowning in memories I couldn’t control.

I was lost in hysteria,

unable to gather myself,

crawling on the floor,

Like a maimed animal.

The room became smaller,

walls closing in,

shadows haunting like ghosts.


He leaned close,

his eyes fixed on mine, unblinking.

My face trembled,

wet with tears

that burned as they fell,

yet he did not move.

No trace of sorrow,

no shadow of care,

only a blank surface

staring into me

like glass or stone.

I wept, and he watched,

as if it were a spectacle.

The stare does not end.

It strips me down…

I am not seen

I am consumed.


Time stretched,

an endless thread…

his words sharp and shifting,

accusations, pleas,

mocking kindness,

then rage.

Gaslight in human form,

he built a labyrinth around my mind,

each insult

another lock on the door.


I fainted once…

darkness a brief mercy…

then woke to his voice again,

high, erratic,

telling me I was his.

Words reverberated like echoes in a closed room,

the same phrases, the same sentences,

poured over me until they felt like chains.

Telling me I would not escape,

that, even when night descended

I would remain in his grasp.


I felt his rage

when I refused to bend,

when I stood upright against his storm

and told him..

he could never claim me,

not in this lifetime,

not by force,

not by persistence,

not by any mask he wore.

Second time I fell,

I woke with no sense of self,

just a heartbeat

and the smell of sweat and fear.


I woke up..

Sat in a corner.

Every minute was an hour.

Every glance a threat.

My body… trembling… 

Searching for escape routes

with none to follow,

all in vain.


I stared at the photographs

my whole world…

pressed them against my bosom

as if my heartbeat could keep them alive.

I wept without sound,

my sorrow locked in silence,

clinging to a fragile hope…

would I ever see them again?

The silence stretched,

loud enough to shatter me.


When the storm of his anger eased,

he asked for an embrace.

I stood unmoving,

hollow as an abandoned child,

tears tracing down my face.

Then he said I was free…

free from the cage,

free to fly,

free from the weight of his chains.


When at last

the door opened,

I stumbled out,

but the room stayed inside me…

its walls built of gaslight and fists,

its air thick with madness.


I left behind his knife,

his voice,

his hands,

but not the shadow he carved

into my skin.

Two and a half hours…

a lifetime folded into one room,

a wound

still whispering

whenever I close my eyes.


Yet… here I am..

a soul that was not broken.

I recount the harrowing experience,

the grief that hollowed me..

not to relive it,

but to prove I endured.

Yes, I survived.

And survival itself

is my victory!!


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