Who am I?

I’m that lost and scared ittle girl that was teased. That was chased around the playground and had her name made fun of.

I’m that girl that was pushed over and had dirt kicked in her eyes.

I’m that girl that was told that these things were indicators that someone really liked me and that they were scared of the emotions that they were feeling, so instead of reaching out they pushed me away.

For every kick, punch, slap and harsh word that assaulted my body, I accepted them as forms of love; a deeper meaning attached to each of them.

For so long I was blinded to these beliefs. Never did I think that it was wrong.

Whenever you held me in your arms afterwards, words of regret and shame rolling off your tongue, I accepted your twisted gifts and stored them deep down inside.

I’m stronger now to realise that this was wrong. That love doesn’t come in the form of a clenched fist, a poisoned word.

You can never wrap love in a blanket of violence.

Violence is violence.

I am no longer that lost and scared little girl.



We stood at the edge of the cliff. My eyes raged with pain and hatred. A feeling that I never usually experienced.

My so called former friend stared back at me, her eyes glazed over in their usual state of ignorance. To think that I had spent so much of my heart on her.

Who would have ever thought that she was actually a wolf in sheep clothing.

I must have been a real bad judge of character. It seemed that everyone else was in on it except for me.

I saw a beautiful talented yet broken young woman, who didn’t know her self worth. I wanted to help her see herself as I saw her. I spent hours listening to her tear herself down, gave her a shoulder when she needed it the most and wiped away her tears when she cried.

I was blind to the real poison that she really was. She was never really a nice person.

She felt power putting others down. The more acid that dropped from her mouth the better she felt. She fed off the misfortunes of others. Seeking validation of her own self, by belittling others.

She thought her shit didn’t stink. A false wave of bravery was worn as a cloak masking her insecurities.

I was so blind to her, that I never saw the knife that she had been holding the whole way through our friendship. I never felt it stab me in the back until it was too late. I was lost in her, love for her leaked from every pore. I was protective of her, she was lost and broken and it was my duty to look out for her.

How wrong I was. She was never my friend. I was just a crutch to her. Used over and over to boost her when she was down. I was her personal punching bag.

She had someone who would ride to the end of the world for her and yet she continued to beat me down to boost her own ego.

As with most things, we started to move apart. The further and further apart we got, the more aware I became of her deceit, of who she truly was.

My eyes were fully open. The rose tinted glasses had fallen and shattered; I was free of their spell. I saw her for who she really was. With every bit of strength I had I removed the knife from my back.

The wound took a while to heal. But in time it did and I grew as a person.

I never thought I would see her again.

But here we were together again, after what felt like an eternity.

She thought I was still the same person I was. Fragile, naive, weak. Boy was she wrong. Little did she know that in the time we had been apart I had grown. The little lap dog that would follow her around was gone. In its place was a fierce, confident and strong woman.

Our eyes locked, two former comrades, now true enemies.

The battle was ready to begin.


I looked around the table. Everyone that was sat here, was here for me. I pushed back the tears that were forming in the corner of my eyes and smiled.

I was truly thankful for them all. Blood or not, each one of these women were my family, my kin, my sisters.

Bonds tied with each one. Each one uniquely different, but all loved the same, both equally and dearly.

Who would have thought that a girl like me, a girl who spent most of her life wandering through mystical forests, searching for a meaning to her lost life; would be surrounded by so many hearts, that all beated with love for her.

There were times when that I was so blinded by goals so far away that I couldn’t see the support system that was around me.

I was blind to the love radiating from around, the type of love that acts like a barrier, catching you when you fall from the highest heights and stopping you from sinking to the lowest lows.

I truly was blessed.


I rang the number again and the phone continued to trill until voicemail picked up.

I sighed, at least he hadn’t put me on do not disturb or blocked me. But I didn’t know which was worse.

I unbuckled my seat belt and opened the car door. Stepping outside I took a deep breath and popped open the boot. I picked up the tin covered tray of food and used my leg to close the boot again.

Maybe he would be here tonight. I hope he was.

I walked the few short steps it took to get me from my car to the front door. But it felt like the longest trek ever, a weight of doubt and fear on my shoulders slowing me down.

Delia opened the door with a smile, embracing me in a hug.

“Finally,” she spoke, letting me go. “We thought you’d never make it. I know the LA roads are still a bit confusing for you.”

“No it was fine,” I replied, “Mike’s been teaching me.”

I tried to stop myself from crying, his name on my lips was a form of torture.

As if knowing what was going on in my head, Delia took the food from my hands and started leading me to the kitchen.

“Let me give you the grand tour,” she said, giving me a reassuring smile.

The house truly was amazing, Delia and Tom had done a great job.

I sat down with my drink and tried to make conversation. But the only question on my mind was ‘where was he’? Delia was his sister and it was only expected that he would be at her housewarming.

An unnerving thought popped into my mind. Maybe he wasn’t here because he knew I’d be here. Me and Delia had become such great friends since, Mike and I had started dating; he must have known I’d be here and decided not to come.

I missed him, I wanted nothing more that to throw my arms around him and hold him forever.

I started to feel sick, the house even though it was massive in size started to feel smaller and smaller. I needed air. I got up and went outside.

The cool evening breeze washed over me, and I took some deep breaths to try and calm myself down.

I felt tears begin to drip from my eyes. Why was he doing this to me? Why couldn’t he just talk to me?

I sat down on the brick wall and backed my flute of champagne and placed the glass back on the wall.

“Zee,” my name sounded like a bullet escaping from his lips.

I turned my head.

There he was, dressed from head to toe in his signature black.

I felt my heart crack, my throat tightened.

I wanted to jump up and press him against me. Feel his heartbeat again, the one that I had been missing for the past week; but I was frozen.

He walked up to me and sat down. I couldn’t speak. We sat in silence just staring at each other. I saw pain in his eyes, he saw pain in mine.

Finally I spoke.

“Why,” was all I could muster.

“I,” he paused unable to continue.

“Why,” I repeated again, this time with more urgency. “Why did you leave me? What did I do wrong?”

The tears continued to flow from my eyes.

He reached out his hand, and wiped them away with his thumb.

“I felt trapped,” he finally said. His voice strained.

“What do you mean,” I whispered back.

“I felt like I wasn’t being true to myself. That I wasn’t good enough. I felt like I was all alone, lost.” He clenched and unclenched his fist.

I took his hand into mine, stroking it, trying to soothe his tension away.

“I just needed to get away. I wasn’t being fair to you I know, but it’s hard. Sometimes I wake up and there are so many questions in my head, questions I can’t answer. Like who am I? Where do I belong?”

Tears began to fall from his eyes.

“What do you want?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” he replied. “But I’m working on it. I’m working on myself. Delia found me this therapist and it’s helping.”

“I’m so sorry you’ve felt so alone. That you couldn’t come to me,” I sobbed.

“No, don’t you ever think that this is your fault. This is me, but I’m working on it. I want to be a better man for you. But also for me. I want to be strong again. I want to be the man that you fell in love with.”

“Still love,” I replied.

I moved closer to him, wrapping my arms around his waist. My head resting on his chest.

“I want to be strong too,” I said.

We sat there together for the rest of the night. No one came out to disturb us. They just let us be. Two lost souls clinging on to each other.


The sweat rolled off Kike’s nose and dripped onto the floor.

She looked over at the mirror to check if she was doing it right. She always felt self conscious in class. Always thinking that her classmates were judging her.

Her anxiety was on fire tonight.

Her teacher Ian, gave the final move of the night before, bidding them all goodbye.

A chorus of ‘bye’s’ and ‘see you tomorrow’s’ rang out around her as people began to trickle out of the class.

Kike picked up her towel, wiping the sweat off her forehead and went to leave.

Ian reached out a hand, stopping her.

“You’ve been showing great improvement,” he smiled at her.

“Really, I thought I’ve been quite shit,” she replied. “Sorry I always swear when I’m nervous.”

“You’ve got nothing to be nervous about,” he beamed back at her. “Just keep up the good work, I see real potential in you.”

“Thanks,” she replied sheepishly.

“I’ll see you next class,” he said turning away from her.

Leaving the studio, Kike’s head was in cloud 9. Who would have thought that her of all people would have gotten good feedback.

She had been so nervous when she first started. Serious doubts about whether a dance career was really for her. Yes she enjoyed it, yes she had been championed by her teachers at school for it, but was she really good enough?

And now getting great feedback from Ian fucking Henshaw. One of the best teachers at the school. She felt like she had all the validation that she needed. If he could see potential in her, then maybe she was a real dancer.

Kike made a beeline for the changing room. Deciding to take a shower now, rather than waiting til she got home.

She retied her bun on top of her head and stripped off her dance clothes.

She stepped into the shower, allowing the water to sluice over her skin. She loved showers, the feel of the hot water against her skin, revitalised her.

She started to hum a Sade song. So lost in the utter bliss she didn’t hear the door of her shower open.

“You’re so beautiful, just like I imagined you to be.”

Standing there was Ian, stark naked and gawping at her.

Startled Kike hurried to cover herself, she looked for her towel but it was gone.

“What are you doing here,” she stuttered.

He ignored her and stepped into the shower. Kike began to back away, but the shower wall stopped her.

He reached out to touch her. His hand grazing her shoulder.

“You need to go,” she attempted to speak again.

He moved closer to her. His hand moving to her breast.

She wanted to scream, to tell him to fuck off. But the words were stuck in her throat.

He moved closer again. Pressing his body against hers. He began to run his hands down her back applying more pressure as he reached her waist.

Kike felt tears well up in her eyes.

She felt his leg move behind hers, locking her to his body.

She closed her eyes, willing her mind to escape.

She felt his lips on hers. She tasted the coffee and cigarette mixture in his mouth.

His kiss deepened.

She felt sick. Why was this happening? Had she given him the wrongs signs, given him the impression that she liked him like that.

She felt him enter her and felt herself die. Her body was no longer hers. He had murdered her. With every thrust, he killed her that little bit more.

After he was finished, he gave her a kiss on her forehead and cupped her face in his hands.

“See I told you, you were improving,” he smiled at her. “I’ll see you in class tomorrow.”

He stepped out the shower, leaving her alone.

Kike felt her body crumple to the floor of the shower. She wanted to cry, but the tears wouldn’t come; she was numb. Her emotions could not adjust to what had just happened.

She sat on the floor for what felt like hours. The water washing him away. But no matter how much water touched her, she couldn’t get him off her; she couldn’t get clean.

Stepping into her normal clothes, questions bumped around her head. But they remained unanswered.


I am everything I am because of who you made me into.

I look at you with disgust. The hate I feel washes over every inch of my body, I hate you with every fibre.

Why won’t you just leave?

Why don’t you just die?

You kiss me on my forehead and stare lovingly into my eyes. You actually believe that what you are doing is right. That this is normal.

Words that mean nothing to me roll off your tongue.

I sit there frozen, non responsive. I am no longer a human. No longer me.

You wipe your mouth with your napkin and get up.

You take one last swig of orange juice and grab your jacket, your car keys swinging in your hand.

More words that mean nothing are said and then you leave.

I hear the car start up and then it is gone, no longer here. You are no longer here.

I blink, the tears that I have been holding back roll free. I breathe. Once. Twice. Again and again.

My heart beats steady.

I am alive, but barely.

I allow my body to fall, sliding from the chair to the floor.

I lie there for a while. Images of freedom flash by. Plans of my escape are thought up.

Minutes, hours fly by until the sun begins to set.

I get up and clear away the breakfast things, now dried and congealed.

I step into the shower. The water caressing me, renewing me; washing away every trace of you.

I feel at peace.

I turn off the water and step outside.

I wipe the steam off the mirror. The reflection that stares back at me, is more than a stranger.

I walk out of the bathroom and head back into a world that doesn’t deserve me.


Exhausted. Overwhelmed. Speechless.

These are all the feelings that I am experiencing right now.

All I can do is write them down. My emotions dripping from my mind through my pen.

I’m so tired of being tired is tiring.

When will this end? When will I change?

My attitude has become lax.

I never used to be like this. I was a go getter. I knew where I was heading. Now not so much.

I want more than just staring up at the growing patches of mould on my ceiling.

I want more than that over the rainbow life.

I want to live it now.

Experience the rush. Not the steady tiptoe of non existence.

The corners of my eyes sting from tears that have long since been cried. Ache from their memories.

The steady strum of my breath reminds me that I’m still alive, but am I really.

My constant enemy sleeps next door to me. A wall separating us. A wolf in sheep clothing. And yet love still leaks out of me.

I am a bundle of confused wool. Tangled up, yearning to be straightened and untied.

I am the aftermath.


My heart keeps breaking into a million pieces and no matter what I do, I can’t stop it. It’s uncontrollable.

I want to run and hide but there is nowhere to go. I want to scream at the top of my lungs but my voice won’t let me. So I stand here silent allowing my eyes to glaze over. Ignoring the fire that is raging inside.

I’m the king of wearing this mask, I will never allow people to see the real me; I will continue on with this facade.

I paint a smile on my face, allow laughter to fall from my mouth, the waves shaking my body; replacing the tears I’m crying on the inside.

Deep down I’m dying, but no one will ever know.

Every day I feel more alone, no matter how many people I come in contact with.

All I want is the darkness to consume me. For my pain to be washed away. Finally.

I want to sink into the grass, lie there as rain falls down on me.

I’m tired. I’m so tired. I’ve never felt less alive then I am now.

I ache for something but I don’t know what it is.

I’m lost in this world full of people, they all walk in one direction, while I walk the other way.

No one knows the pain I feel, the tears that I cry.

I feel like a ball of nothing. I am nothing.


She tried to swallow but her mouth was so dry, she tried to fight back the tears that were forming at the corners of her eyes but she lost the battle and the streams began.

He looked at her searching for an answer. Hoping that it would all be okay.

But it wasn’t.

It would never be okay, never again.

She had not signed up for this. This was not supposed to happen.

They had all warned her, told her not to get with him. That he would hurt her. But she had been so lost in him that she allowed all her reservations to fall and float away in the wind.

“Tanya,” he finally said. Her name sounding foreign on his tongue.

She had to get away from him. She didn’t want to be here anymore. Everything about him was like a poison to her.

The smile that once made her melt, was like a thousand daggers. His scent, rotten to her nose.

He stepped closer to her, trying to take his hand in hers. She batted him away. He stepped closer again, his arms trying to circle her waist.

She tried to push him away, to stop him. But he succeeded. He pushed her closer to him, his head falling on her shoulder.

She felt hot tears wet the corner of her top. He was crying. The fucking arsehole was really crying.

Why did he have the right to cry? Who said that he had the fucking right to cry!

He was the one that was in the wrong. He was the one that had risked it all, broken something that was so pure and whole.

He continued to sob away on her shoulder. Words such as sorry, forgive, love bounced off his lips but she wouldn’t allow them to enter her.

She stood still, as the bulk of him pressed onto her. Her rage growing but contained.

She wanted him off her, as far away from her as humanly possible.

Love did not live here anymore.

Love was the furtherest thing that she felt for him.

After what felt like an age he let go.

All the anger that had been building up shot out of her and she felt her hand slap him across the face.

Her hand tingling after. His eyes still wet bulging in shock.

Steadying her breath, she turned around and headed for the stairs.

Without turning, she finally spoke.

“I want you gone.”


He touched her face.

His hand familiar but strange.

She wanted to remember, she wanted to know him.

She screamed inside. Hurt building up. She wanted to know him.

Wanted to remember all the times that he had placed his hand on her face previously, but the memories wouldn’t come.

His brown eyes bore into her own. As if he was trying to search inside for her. Trying to bring her back to him.

But she was lost. He knew that. She was never coming back.

He ripped his eyes away so that she would not see the pain growing deep inside of him.

Staring at the wall, memories of their life together fought their way into his head. He tried to fight the off, but they continued to come, refusing to let up.

A memory of the first time he had seen her crept inside.

A vision of pure and innocent beauty. She didn’t know he was watching her. She wore all black, as if she was in mourning. Her glasses struggling to stay up right. Every now and then she pushed them back up her face. Grimacing at the annoyance of having to do so.

She was so engrossed in her work, that she didn’t look up when her colleague asked her if she was coming out to lunch. So lost in whatever she was doing that the outside world could’ve crumbled and she would have been oblivious to it all.

He had wanted to approach her, to tell her that she was the most intriguing woman that he had ever seen. That he wanted to get to know her. That he had felt a connection to her. But he was too scared. Scared of the rejection he knew he would receive.

It would take a year before he uttered his first words to her. A year of unnecessary trips to her office, meetings about nothing, just so he could see her smile, see her wrinkle up her face in frustration.

“No,” he shouted balling up his fist, pushing the memory away.

Surprise washed over her face as he realised he had said this out loud.

She searched his face, looking for answers to her unspoken questions.

He suddenly felt claustrophobic, like he couldn’t breathe. He had to get out of there. He had to leave. He sprung up from his chair and left the room.

He ran down the corridor, dodging members of staff and other patients on his journey. His breath tight in his chest.

Reaching the end of the corridor, he sunk to the floor.

She really was gone. She was never coming back to him.

His heart began to break, hot tears sprang from his eyes and he sobbed deeply.

She was never coming back.