(This story is about negative thoughts, inner turmoil and how hard it is to break the cycle of self criticism and destruction. Sometimes the old stuff is more comfortable than the new simply because the old is what we know.)
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I toss the covers off me in a pile on the same foundation I’ve rebuilt a hundred times. Eye to eye she and I stand. What now? Can I do this? Can I stand up to her?
I said you have to leave.
You don’t want me to stay?
No.
Are you sure? You seem anxious. Can I get you anything? A razor blade, a photo of your mom to sit next to your bed? Anything? You look like you could use a blade.
If you don’t leave I’ll call the police.
They won’t believe you. Everyone knows you’re a manipulative liar. Besides, they’ll take you instead of me.
She expects me to pause but I don’t. Today I’m steady with my words, determined to separate us for good. Tonight is the night she sleeps shivering and alone. Tonight is her lonely night. I’m sure of it this time so with everything I’ve got I tell her again, “I asked you to leave. You can either walk out of that door or they take you out on a stretcher.” Continue reading ‘STORY: The Riddler’
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