Repose Memories (reposememories) wrote in repose, @ 2017-06-04 05:29:00 |
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Entry tags: | marta flores, ~plot: memories |
What: Memory
Will characters be viewing the memory or experiencing it?: Experiencing.
Warning, this memory contains: Assault, reflection on prior child abuse.
The pages are unfocused, diluted by time or just a lack of attention. Daydreaming makes the letters and numbers jumble together into one big cumulus mess.
You think it's love. In fact, you're sure it is. He's tall, and he's handsome, and he's so smart… so experienced, so worldly. He knows about the ecosystems of the major mountain ranges on different continents. He quotes Descartes and Foucault. He's married, but he uses the word separated... in the same breath, he always promises that you're the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. He's conflicted, he's complicated. He's troubled. He's human and flawed and beautiful. When he gets angry, he reminds you of your stepfather. He helps you with your homework.
You don't want to be naive, you want to be older than your years… so you concede to the idea that relationships can't always consist of kisses at midnight and chocolate ice cream licked off the spoon. You know that he's successful, and he's successful because his work is so important to him. His work will always come first, and that's okay. You don't need to be first so long as you're at least standing in line. You think it'll be alright to be second, or third, or even fifth so long as you have a place to stand. It doesn't matter that it's a secret, and it doesn't matter that he's married. You think it's love.
He's been angry lately, he's been stressed. You know that it's his work, and you know how brilliant he is, so you're not worried about it. It will all work out because you're making this your fairy tale, and there isn't any place for unfortunate events in your story. You really believe that, that loving someone can be enough to combat any darkness in the world, or any darkness in their personality.
He hasn't hit you, not exactly. Not the way your step father would. Sure, he's shaken you, and he's pushed you… but those incidents weren't as easily marked as violent. None of it really hurt or left a mark, and you're not making excuses, but he's been stressed.
He's stressed tonight too. You've heard him cursing, and you've heard glass breaking in the other room while you sat in this one doing your homework. Inhale deep with eyes closed and you swear that it's going to be okay because that's how it goes in the stories. Rough patch, then bliss. It's almost like meditation when you close your eyes, all that study-anxiety sinks down to your toes folded up beneath the bend of your shins. It should be peaceful, but Mr. Handsome-and-married stalks through the doorway then. You blink and abandon the textbook in your lap because he's moving toward you. He doesn't look angry, but he looks purposeful, and something about the beat of his step against the floor takes away your standard ease.
"What's the matter?" You ask this to nobody listening, because as you stand from the chair, he has you by the neck. His eyes like bright and crazy. In a milder degree, it would have been a qualifier for Passion, but whatever this is, you don't recognize. He forces the insignificant angles of your body back down into the chair while he explains.
"No progress was seen in the rats, so we're going to try something new..."
The syringe is in your throat before you even know what he's saying. There's a thrash of limbs, a gasp and hiccup. Your heart gallops toward arrest, and everything blacks out within the couple of seconds that you spent trying to crawl across the floor.