It was 1 A.M, I was lying in bed listening to faded by Alan Walker when she knocked on my door ever so lightly. At first I thought I had imagined it all but…
I heard it again. Her knocks were as soft as her voice and so I let her in wondering why she was knocking at my door so late. Without a word she climbed into my bed and let me cradle her in my arms. I could tell she had been crying from her sniffles and wet cheeks. Oh! my poor darling.
We remained in that foetal position for what seemed like decades until she lifted her night shirt and pointed at different areas saying “it hurts Gracey, it really hurts”. I understood what she meant. She was showing me all her exit wounds. I rocked her gently, trying so hard to give her comfort and closure I knew only she could find by herself and that’s when she let me in, pointing at each ‘scar’ narrating her experience, trying so hard not to cry. In her weakness she was showing strength and my heart was breaking for her.
She talked and talked and I listened hugging her from time to time. She talked about her near rape experiences, the physical & mental abuse she had endured in the hands of men she thought she was safe with. She talked about the cheating, the betrayal, the mind games and oh the pain. She talked about not being able to heal for she knew not how to. “How do you heal from wounds that are self inflicted she asked”? How do you deal when each time they leave it’s all your fault?
She blamed herself for everything saying if only she did things differently, if only she was a happier person, maybe just maybe one of them would have loved her enough to stay. At this point I’m hurting along with her wondering how she could blame her self so blindly for the things that have happened to her. Wasn’t she aware of how beautiful her soul was? Didn’t she know that they left cos they were undeserving of her? How was I to convince her that she wasn’t the problem?[ctt title=”But Darling, regardless of what you\’ve been through, you have permission to heal.” tweet=”But Darling, regardless of what you’ve been through, you have permission to heal” coverup=”4fd8w”]
How could a person know only pain and not how to heal? She felt her exit wounds were too many, her scars too deep, she felt no one wanted her. I held her tightly, cooing her, softly stroking her face and hair, urging her to be calm.
Time passed. I must have drifted off to sleep cos when I woke up, there she lay looking so peacful, so calm. There she lay, dead from all the pain caused by the exit wounds.
How does one heal?