I was out chilling with my mates when my phone rang. It was her, and she sounded really messed up, saying she’d hurt herself if I didn’t come back. When I got back, I found her in the bathroom, knives lying there like some horror movie. It freaked me out big time. After that, I felt like I had to stay close, like I was responsible for her. I couldn’t even hang out with my friends without worrying about what might happen when I wasn’t there.

Blades

I was out chilling with my mates when my phone rang.

It was her.

Her voice was shaky, broken, words slurring together. “I can’t do this… I need you… If you don’t come back, I’ll—”

My stomach dropped.

I left without even saying goodbye, sprinting through the streets, my mind racing through every worst-case scenario. What if I was too late? What if she’d already—

I burst through the front door, calling her name. No answer.

Then I saw the bathroom light on.

I pushed the door open and froze.

Knives, lying there on the sink like something out of a horror movie. A bottle tipped over, pills scattered across the floor. She was sitting against the bathtub, her head low, her breathing heavy.

She looked up at me, eyes wide and glassy, and whispered, “You came back.”

It freaked me out big time.

I wanted to be angry, to shake her, to scream What the hell are you doing? But all I could do was kneel beside her, my hands shaking as I checked if she was okay.

After that, everything changed.

I felt like I had to stay close, like I was responsible for her.

I couldn’t even hang out with my friends without worrying about what might happen when I wasn’t there.

What if she called and I didn’t pick up? What if next time, I was too late?

It wasn’t love anymore.

It was fear.

share this story:

More stories

UNSEEN ECHOES - Objects of Domestic Abuse | Photography Project & Exhibition

I was at work one day when she sent me a photo of a clown. It was not to be funny, but she said it looked like me.

She was always saying bad things about how I dressed. I couldn’t forget it. I kept thinking, maybe other people think the same. It made me feel bad, like I was not good enough.

She had this diary, but it wasn’t for remembering fun stuff or happy times. Nope, it was all about the times I messed up. Every little mistake or thing I did wrong, she’d write it down like it was some kind of crime.

It felt like she never missed a chance to point out my mistakes, but when it came to the good stuff? Forget about it. It’s like it never even happened.

It made me feel like I couldn’t do anything right, always walking on eggshells around her.

He boiled a pan of water on the hob. He kept telling me that I had to stop upsetting him. He said it over and over again, but wouldn’t say what I was doing.

Then he called the dog over and held it near the water. He kept telling me to stop upsetting him.

I couldn’t. I didn’t even know what I had done wrong.

I had no freedom. I couldn’t even choose what I was going to wear. She did all of that.

She would leave clothes out on the bed for me. She even picked out what socks I would wear. I was more her fashion accessory. Just there to fit her image.

It’s humiliating when I look back at it. I couldn’t be me.

I used to leave flowers in the window, like my own secret signal to the world. It felt comforting, like a silent message saying I was okay.

But on days when I forgot, I got scared. What if someone noticed the missing flowers and came looking? What would happen if she answered the door? She would find out what I was doing.

I still put flowers in my window now. Now that I am safe. I just want to let people know.

I loved that bench. It became my sanctuary, a place where I could find peace away from the chaos. I couldn’t stay for too long though, he would notice I was gone and come looking for me.

Those precious moments were all I needed. A sense of calm that I could hold onto.

Blades

More stories

Subscribe To Our Newsletter