The Louder the Whispers, the Harder it is to Breathe

Atlas whispers to me in the back of my mind. It’s not exactly a voice I hear; more like an energy pattern imprinted on some deep structure in my brain. No man is going to want you, it hisses derisively, dragging five or six kids with you everywhere you go, never having enough money to do anything funnnnn…. I have to remind myself that while this sentiment is probable, it is not absolute. Jester still wants me.

Atlas will finally communicate with me now, after nearly three years of no contact. Sometimes, when he texts about plans with the kids, I can feel those creeping fingers of control seeking a foothold in my facade. He will slowly, stealthily slide across the wall I put up, slipping like oil into every crack he can find.

This man is dangerous, every cell in my body softly reminds me.

I cannot afford to let down my guard for one second.

Choke 2.0

I didn’t keep count of how many times he choked me. Four or five? Maybe six?

In processing all of the abuse I experienced at Atlas’ hand, I wrote more than once that I hadn’t known physical abuse. Well, except for those times he choked you… sometimes I felt obliged to include the thought on paper, but I never thought past the simple fact that it had happened.