In Bed With The Past

B.amba
B.amba
Jan 10 · 3 min read
Ahmed — Unsplash

She couldn’t feel her feet touch the earth or the familiar consciousness of wet sand against her underfoot, she only saw clods thrown in the air and still, she didn’t feel fast enough. He was chasing strong and every time his feet hit the ground she felt like his hand had just gripped her neck from behind. She could feel the moist air brushing her navel and knew her wrapper was coming loose. She grabbed one loose end, looking down and searching for the other as she ran. The fall was inevitable. He closed in on her with rounded fists and her scream pierced through the deafening silence of the morning. Thigh and hands torn by the gravel, she crawled for safety but he had one foot.

Naomi struggled and kicked so hard, she hit herself in the face. Fighting beneath the sheets, she nearly choked on the luxury silk; her breathing loud and harsh. The fear cocooned her, forming sweat trickles behind her ear.

It was the third time this week, and 8 months since the divorce but the dreams wouldn’t stop. Her phone lit up gently. It was a text from V. asking about the meeting for later today. Turning away and heading to the bathroom, she cared little for the text as anything associated with her career was currently the least of her concerns. She would pick the pieces of everything else after she had blown his own world to pieces like he did hers. As she straddled the emerald ceramic bowl, her naked foot avoiding cold tiles, she felt the pain shoot through her pelvic and a cocktail of violent images from her dead marriage tripled the agony of the otherwise simple process of urinating now made a nightmare from the many broken body parts.

By noon, the trauma of her nightmares was overwhelming. She couldn’t think clearly. The differing pains made her thighs throb which led to more pain. She pulled out her bottom drawer and reaching far in rummaged for the firearm. As she clasped it, a flood of memories washed over her; the flashback of her baby’s screams at the gunshot that made her deaf, her fear stricken face and the race for the bludgeon but this revolver had saved their lives.

Setting the revolver in its case, she reached for her pills; her thighs were on fire. More than anything else, she wanted an end to it all. She burned with a need to see him suffer and pay. But she had to be around, she had to protect her baby and neither his death nor hers would ensure that. To win, she just had to be around.

Rising to full length, she dialed her Counsellor instead and shutting the case strode gracefully out of her office but first she had to make a trip to the bathroom and feel the pain all over, again.

The Junction

The Junction is a digital crossroads devoted to stories, culture, and ideas. Our interests are legion.

B.amba

Written by

B.amba

Read. Pray. Write.

The Junction

The Junction is a digital crossroads devoted to stories, culture, and ideas. Our interests are legion.

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