I had just been invited to a party without him. I wanted to go.
Every subtlety drained from his face. “Please don’t go”, he said, solemnly.
Maybe it was the way he said it, like he would die if I left, or maybe because I was scared of what he would do to me if I tried to leave. But in that moment his eyes seemed to disappear out of his skull as if someone were pulling them out through the back of his head, leaving only dark, empty sockets where his soul should have been.
I didn’t go to that party. And despite the low that had him begging me to stay, for the rest of the night he treated me like the queen I was when he was high.
I think it was a few more months before I finally left. But in that moment, when I made a choice out of fear and not love, some sort of courage started to creep its way into my heart, slowly.
And in that moment I had decided.
Looking back I think the little life I was building inside gave me what I needed; each day, together, we grew stronger. And then, each day, together, we needed him a little bit less.