I walk.

The bleeding won’t stop.

My head feels fuzzy. Ears and eyes muffled up. The lights of the passing cars hit my glasses and make me feel like I’m walking past rambling stars (like in a cartoon time-travel scene).

Everything is in slow-motion AND fast-forward at the same time. The cars move slow on the street; it’s like I’m watching a mud-ridden river trickle its way forward. The people zing past me as if I’m walking through treacle.

My stomach feels like I’ve ingested a pint of bleach.

As my feet lead me to my door I get this feeling of impending doom. Panic comes over me and sits on his favourite spot: my chest. I can’t breathe.

Here we go…

Stop. Breathe. BREATHE.

Ok.

I stumble into the shower. The water rinses some of the panic off my skin. The steam opens my pores and lungs. Breathing is now steady.

My hormones take over on msn and my nerves are taut. Every muscle in my body is ready to twitch when…

…it’s him. On the phone. Inane crap again. I’m not even listening.

Then fear grips me.

It’s that panic again. NO! No! Don’t panic. Where’s the fuckin’ button? Crap. It’s too late. Fear is here.

I hear his voice and my face turns to stone. My muscles tense. My body becomes rigid.

(Fucking bodies. So limited!)

The room spins around me. I try to sit up. My head spins some more. My body aches. Panic. Panic. Panic.

My love is away. Communication is erratic. I need to breathe. Breathe.

I gulp down air and water cause my mouth and throat are dry as the desert.

Get up! I must get up! Do some housework. Ok. Yes. That’s it. No! Stupid body! Don’t try to faint! Stand up! No! I’m not gonna die. Push that thought away for now.

I hated having to listen to his whiny voice. You crap! You piece of shit! Shit! Piece of shit!

(That’s IT! Anger!)

You filthy liar! You piece of shit. You miserable little man.

Shit. Again with the breathing…

My love talks to me. He walks me through our best times. He talks me through it.

I’m safe for now.

Just one more night.

One more.

Breathe.