When He Gets Mean…
I get weak in the knees…..

The growl gets me every time.
The words that sound as if they’re being pushed out at the lowest pitch and from the bottom of his throat.
Bad words.
Dirty words.
Mean words.

His hand in my hair, pulling me – or, holding me in one place unable to move.

My arm quickly jerked behind my back by my wrist, seemingly out of nowhere.

Teeth.

He makes me say things I don’t want to say.
He makes me do things I don’t want to do.
He makes me ask – or beg – for things I don’t want.
He won’t stop when I ask him to.
Just my asking seems to spur him on.

When he’s mean.
I like him when he’s mean.
He has my full attention when he’s mean.
Nothing exists but him, not even the room we’re in.
His eyes – if I can manage to pry mine open – are all I see.
In the back of my mind, I hear the words “fight, escape, break free”
But it’s a tiny voice that whispers those words
Instead, it’s the screaming one inside my head that I listen to
The one that says “Don’t let this end. Not yet.”