The Last Day

It started with one last attempt. So wanting the man whom I had given my life to, since I was a child, a teen... to know me. In my heart, I knew it would be to no avail, a useless endeavor. I wanted him to see what others saw, what ~HE~ saw. Not ~ if you talked about things I cared about, then I would listen~ , but ~ You see the world in ways most of us can only dream ~
How could this man that I had seen daily for nineteen years not know me as well as ~HE~ had in such a short time. My eyes had only recently been opened, my ghost writing begun only two weeks earlier.

I start hesitantly, because I fear it will end in disaster. I calmly begin to explain that I would like for him to understand who I really am. Rapidly, it spirals out of control. The tirade begins, the yelling commences. I realize quickly that I have made a mistake. I try to end the conversation immediately. This only further angers him. It ends in him storming away, hurling insults over his shoulder.
I sit and stare blindly. After a time, I decide to go for a drive to calm. This was my second mistake. For when I get back, he is infuriated at my leaving. In a rage, he screams, degrades me, "Troublemaker, why can't you just shut the hell up, bitch"
Following me through the house, as I try to avoid the barrage. As I walk into our bedroom, I hear what sounds like an explosion. The door that I had just came through flies past me landing on the bed.
Without a flinch, I turn to him. He grabs a gun that had been leaning against the wall. I can only assume it is still not loaded. At this point, I don't care. I stare blankly as he rages and spit sprays from his mouth.
I've been told by him in calm times that he is afraid that he will kill me one day. Now, my spirit is numb. I feel nothing, I fear nothing. I am dead inside. Real death means nothing to me. In this moment, all that I had been recently told is no longer true. I am worthless. I am nothing. I am no one. Death would be an escape from this hell.
He screams, "Take the anniversary present you were going to give me and shove it up your ass." I feel the vibrations of his powerful voice in waves through the air between us. Towering over me, I know that my life is on the line. Numb, I don't even blink.
I stare into his wild eyes, the same eyes I have previously looked into as they hovered over me as fingers were wrapped around my throat. Still, no fear.
Eventually, he exhausts himself , throws the gun down and storms out the front door. As I hear the car roar away, emotion floods my mind, my body. I sob uncontrollably. I scream, shaking with the fear that had abandoned me only minutes before.
Making a split second decision, I grab my phone. I dial the number that had been given to me. ~HE~ answers. For the first time, ~HE~ hears my voice. The first time he hears me, I am weeping, out of control.
~HE~ listens as I pour out the horror of the last few hours. ~HE~ lets me talk until I have gotten it all out. ~HE~ listens. For the first time in my life, someone listens.

You listen.