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13. this is your future
Frazer always gossiped. He told me not to talk about our relationship to anyone, but I knew that he would be gossiping to the others, and that they became agitated when cops were involved. Stuart said, 'We'll take her for a ride to the country', after Frazer had blabbed to him about the recent police incident. So I said, 'Yeah fine, but who's in the front seat and who's in the back? Then Stuart said, 'She'll be in the back, in a body bag'. They were all laughing that I had become angry to the point of screaming. I had fucked up badly. It was only after I had gone into some rage, that Frazer became all calm and contented inside. I realised that he was feeding from my anger. It made him feel good and powerful. He believed that he felt nothing. He liked to observe other people feeling something, whilst he fooled himself that he felt nothing. He associated any display of emotion as weak. When his parents were raging around the house of his infancy like a hurricane, it was good to be all calm and feel nothing. He existed like an old shed that hoped it wouldn't be shattered, because it was no threat to the hurricane. It displays its harmlessness whilst gathering its strength. It gathers strength by not responding. The second time the cops came to get me out, Frazer grabbed me in the kitchen and pleaded with me in a calm voice, 'Crystal, what are you doing?' He was the soft heroin. I forced myself to leave, accompanied by eight police. After that incident I never truly came back in the same way to be hurt by him again. But for months afterwards I suffered, living fifteen minutes at a time. I had always been so strong, but he was both my parents at once, pounding into the child inside me. He never let up. Every line, every smile, and every bodily action was a manipulation. I just didn't have the energy to live with someone like that. Like the cops, I liked things a bit more straightforward. The longer I was around him, the stronger he became and the weaker I got. I was like an exotic pot plant that he stored in a dark shed. There were the fantastic times and that's why we all stay. He was the only person in the world that I never felt alone with. It was like the universe wanted me to exist. He was all the parents in the world that had never loved me, and now they came back from my dead childhood to love me. He was the dark predator that appears in all those kinky dreams. He's the real bad one. Although the world knows that he is a complete arsehole to every other person, well isn't every other person in the world an arsehole, in some small way as well? Besides in your dreams you knew that this particular arsehole had that soft spot underneath his dark clothes just for you to nestle into. Therefore through your unconditional love, you thought that you could become the transformer of all arseholes. But this is a delusion. An arsehole is just an arsehole whatever angle you choose to look at it. They see love on any healthy level as a weakness. Barbs said, 'You will never be able to let your guard down around him. The minute you do, he'll knock you down'. I became very strong around him. I left the emergency ward at the hospital, after he had tried to shatter the vertebrae in my neck, on my own. I could not cry. I thought, I am such a force to be reckoned with in the world. I became very unafraid of anything, and then very deeply afraid that nothing gentle would be able to approach me. I was afraid that I would be able to let nothing in. 'I want to kill you!' his high-pitched squeal as he had begun to lose that very slim control he had over the knife twisting in his hands. In these moments I always became immobilised. Then he stabbed it into the bench and said, 'This is your future!' Then he said he would slash my face with the knife, so that no other man would find me attractive after he had finished with me. But I knew that he would never really be finished with me. He would still fuck me with the slashed cheeks and even better so, because this meant that for a time, I would be more under his control. The slashed cheeks would make me angrier, more like an injured wild animal. He always liked to equate me with the wild. But ultimately he would hate the weakness in me that allowed him to dominate and mutilate me. In the end all I would be was a dead body with slash marks all over it. A corpse that he was still fucking, fucking and hating at the same time. They said, 'you will fall in love again'. But after the slow murder, firstly by my parents and then by him, I was afraid that nothing would be let in. That everything I had always wanted to be, inside, would be unable to exist. All I could do was sound the cyclone warnings to those who wandered in close enough to love me in that real way. Fortunately, there was something gentle from inside that already loved me. It said, 'I know you are capable of intimacy. You are just too hard on yourself'. Through those words of light there was always the darkness beyond. There was my wish that I could exercise the relief of being a machine. Often I have a little prayer up in the Big Park, or wherever love is present. When I hear the reassuring whisper I answer it. 'I am deeply sorry for what I have become. I fear that I am a ruined person.' |
