Thirteen Years by Victoria Meyers (4 of 30)

I remember the day my mind cracked.
Funny because I don't remember things anymore.
But not like before when I thought I was losing it.
Not like the day you threw your wedding ring at me for the last time.
I knew it was the last time because I took that ring between my teeth and bit down till it was flat so you could never wear it again.
Not like that day, when I couldn't stand the crazy anymore, so I took your little guitar and I smashed it over the top of your wooden valet- and I kept on swinging till nothing was left of either one but splinters.
Not like that day when I wanted so much just to tell you how I feel, how I love and you answered me by coming at me with a chair raised high over my head and I ran away and jumped in my van to leave but then I saw your car there.
Before I knew it I had rammed the van into the back of your car so hard it pushed it up over the parking barrier and onto the sidewalk even with the emergency brake on.
It felt so good I backed up the van and rammed it again.
And then I backed up and rammed that damned car one more time before I left.
I made it several miles before all the water leaked out of that busted radiator when there I was left with no other choice on that freezing cold night but to call you to rescue me.
And after you put on a flat donut tire and limped out to find some air, you did come, and you even patched that radiator with a slice of soda can and super glue.
While ice formed on your hair and collar from the water dripping down in the frigid cold.
But with all that crazy that's not when my mind cracked.
Those times I was letting of some steam, but eventually I couldn't let off enough and my mind did crack.
Just like when you boil an egg too fast and long.
That was the day the two worlds I lived in collided with a sickening slushy scrunch.
When the life I didn't know I had became my new reality while the life I thought I was living suddenly disappeared.
That was the day the whispers started.
The memories of your voice whispering horrible truths to me while I slept.
I know it never happened- I guess it's a mother's guilt-over not knowing what I looked so carefully to see.
But still I remember hearing the whispers now-the whispers that you never spoke.
The words I still cannot tell.
I can't tell those words to anyone,
I don't want to tell them even to myself.
They linger there in the crack of my mind between a life lived and lost and another that was stolen from me and all of us.
Still sometimes I wonder if those whispers were real though I know they are not.
I remember not knowing and knowing and hearing and not hearing all at the same time.
I know it didn't happen.
You didn't take your demons with you when you left.
You left them here with me.
Thirteen Years - take your damned demons with you when you leave!
You've been gone thirteen years and still I want to make you leave.

~Thirteen Years by Victoria Meyers