Closure

My dearest.

The time has come for me to write you a letter. I feel that you deserve to know. It is time now. You need to know what you can and cannot get away with anymore. The boundaries must be set. You’ve had free reign for far too long.

Do you remember when you first came in to my life? We sat on my bed - you behind me, your arm around me, grooming me, persuading me. Whispering in my ear. Do you remember those words? ‘Just once,’ you said, ‘just this one time, you’ll see.’ It worked, so well. You see, I fell for you. I fell for you hard and fast and it was painful. You made me sick to the stomach, you made my heart, mind, soul and body ache like no other. I didn’t understand. I was too young, too naïve. I knew it was wrong, but I didn’t know what else to do. I didn’t know how to say no.

Next came the lies. You taught me well. I learnt how to scheme, lie and deceive. I learnt how to stare in to the eyes of the ones I loved and tell them a dirty lie without flinching. I’d look to you and you’d laugh at their faces, so full of trust and belief. You’d link your arm through mine and giggle. ‘We got away with it again!’ you’d hiss.
The compliments were intriguing at first. I fought so hard to gain your respect, to win your approval. I’d feel you slide your hand across my hips, across my ribs and grunt in a half-satisfied way.. ’It’s good, but you could do better…’ you’d breathe. Those words stung. Those words stuck with me. Could. Do. Better.

You gave me options. You gave me a choice. Fear and misery, or you. Life or death. Oh we thought about it, didn’t we? We thought about death. It was tempting. You made it seem… attractive. Of course, we’d be together. It would be romantic, almost. I wouldn’t be alone. ‘Till death do us part. I was on tiptoes, peering over the edge. Did you like me there? Did you get a kick out of it?

I’ll give you something - you were loyal. All the times in hospital where I lay in bed, perhaps just hours from slipping away; you were there. You stuck by me, you held my hand. You told me tales, promised me mountains, happiness, a fairytale. You sung me lullabies. You told me all the things we’d do as soon as we were out of that dreadful place, away from all the controlling, prying eyes. ’Soon, we’ll be left alone and we can be together again. Just you and me,’ you’d soothe, as I drifted off to sleep. ‘And when we do, we’ll make up for the lost time in here. You’ll see.’ I believed you. I trusted you. Though, wasn’t it you who put me there?

Until one day, I didn’t anymore. Do you know who won me over? It wasn’t you. Oh no, not this time. It wasn’t even me. It was my family. They told me how well I looked - happy, healthy. I felt your hand on my shoulder, grinning at everybody as you lapped up the compliments, laughing to yourself at the sheer irony of it. You knew I was hurting, the most I‘d hurt in weeks, months. You laughed as you pictured me disappearing out of view, out of sight. Falling, everything falling. Most of all, though, everybody in the room, fooled. Ultimate control. You laughed as you saw my face, helpless, lost and alone. Desperate. Then I lost it. Do you remember? I shook your hand off my shoulder, I ran from the room. Terrified, I closed the door on you and bolted it.

You ignored me, at first. Next, you screamed. Reasoned. Howled. Denial, anger, bargaining, depression. I stood my ground. I sat with my family as I pictured you kicking the door down and finding me. I sat frozen, petrified, trying to erase the image of you from my head. That night, I hesitantly went to bed. Just as I fell into a deep sleep you crept in to my bedroom and sat at the end of my bed. I sat up to see you; you lay there curled up, hunched over yourself, like a small, lost child. You grieved.

I had no sympathy. I turned over and drifted in to a peaceful sleep. The next morning you were gone. I found the traces of you dotted around my room, but I knew you had left. I didn’t need to check. No bags were packed… no note written. Suddenly, I heard a voice in my head. Do you know who’s voice it was? It was mine. Clarity.

I write you this letter with one simple question, one favour to ask of you. I don’t know where you are, or who you are with. I don’t even know what you’re doing. All I ask of you is this: never, ever come back into my life again. You are no longer welcome. You broke me time after time, built me back up again and then destructed me over and over for six long, heart wrenching years. Enough, now.

I was tired, too tired to fight, but now I’m not. You can try and beat that door down again should you choose, but a warning; you will not win. Stay away from where you are not wanted, because there is not one person that wants you here anymore. Not them, not me. There was a time in my life when I thought I would never say goodbye to you, when I thought that I wouldn’t be able to function without you guiding me, showing me, conditioning me. But now, I can. Now, I need to. Now, it is time.

Goodbye.