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The Road Monologue

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“One thing’s wrong with that picture, plan didn’t work.” He antagonizes me to stay, to talk longer, but I know he just wants the knife and me. “You think I did all of this to have you leave me, ever. This is it. We are it.” I press against the small of his neck, running the blade along his agitatedly defined jawline. “Let’s talk about what you did to me.” I dig the pointed end in his chin’s cleft. “There is no excuse good enough for what you did at the hotel and thereafter. You took a choice away from me.” My hand does not let up. Rage washes over me in waves projected for his beaded shore of uncertainty. “It is the primitive culture you tell me, I don’t really love her eshgham, and I call it bullshit.” I twist the knife figuratively and …show more content…

“No, it was a chance run-in, I swear. I only want you.” I speak through a tack lodged within the walls of my esophagus. “Listen well: I don’t care what you want. I am dragging you to the edge of hell myself and you will have a manufactured smile on your face when we arrive.” His snake-like grip tightens around my windpipe. I can’t breathe and this is the point. Black spots cloud my vision and his face is starting to blur from reality. “Against my will, you sound insane.” My newly cut nails claw down the corners of his cornea. He hisses at the scratch marks lining down his face. “What did he say about me now? Am I abusing you today?” He smirks, I don’t. The truth behind that smile is a horrifying reality he will never admit to without an apology. My wild eyes lock onto his, he sees through me, held in the hostage of a trance. Hot tears trickle down at the new pain. I speak through the swell of muscle, “I’m happy he fucked me first. He was a real man.” My legs kick in the air as consciousness take the last gasps to leave my body. “You were a virgin. There was a Holy exodus of blood.” The pressure lessens, not enough for me to see anything past him, or the …show more content…

I smash the lampshade covered bulb until I can hear the crack of a skull. I work as if my life was chosen for my death or revival. The inner shame last long after the lamp clatters in pieces to the floor. The pain of loving someone who I’ve broken, guts me from the inside out. Stinging tears blind me. All I wanted was to marry him. In a failed attempt to keep himself upright. He collapses on my chest. White bubbles tinted in pink foam the corners of his mouth. His life runs short as his body thrashes across the mattress in a tonic state. Moist legs curl to my side, I roll the added weight from my body. He shivers violently. I dry heave my anguish. “Help,” I shout into the abyss of an empty home until my throat is sour. I kiss the paling violet lips frothing from mouth. I taste his fear against my tongue. “I’m sorry… I didn’t mean it.” I prop his head in my hands. Maroon teardrops run in a fountain down my hands. So much blood colors my skin. “Please don’t leave me here alone.” His face of earlier is a distant memory, gone is the childlike wonder in his eyes. I see nothing, but rolled back white irises. That hold nothing, least of all love for me

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