Sunday, 26 May 2013

We are dying. I longed desperately to escape, to pack my bags and flee, but I did not. (Sophie's Choice)

He squeezed my hand and looked at me with the saddest eyes.

“I’m not saying that’s the route I’d like to take. Obviously the best place for you is in rehab rather than jail. You’re obviously a very sick woman and you’ll never get the kind of help you need in any sort of correctional facility.”

Rehab or jail, talk about Sophie’s Choice.

I clenched my eyes closed and leaned back against my pillow.

Christian opens the door to the small but cozy bungalow and announces his arrival. Two small children run to greet him. A perfect petit woman walks up to him and kisses his cheek. “How was work?” “Great, how I love imparting knowledge!” They sit at the table and pray and eat homemade food. She has never burnt anything or boiled anything over into the burners. They sit in front of the TV and watch PBS all snuggled up on the couch together. No one gets mad or fights. No one is high. Everyone is happy. That could have been Christian’s life if he never met me.

I opened my eyes and the room was empty and dark. I was alone and I cried. What had I become?  

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