I don’t know how much more I can take, I feel like I’m slowly losing touch with myself. It hurts, everywhere; at night, in broad daylight, all the time. But I have to keep trying, if not for myself, at least for you.
She let herself fall on the couch and held her face with both hands, her palms resting on either side of her face, a shaky breath coming out of her lips.
The clock hanging on the living room’s wall read 6:35 a.m. Her weeks had started to become blurry, ending up in her just waiting for Sundays to come. Each one of them had become sacred, a time where she could allow herself to breathe because Jimin was in front of her and not possibly suffering because of her abuser.
Jimin had confessed many things during those meetings, telling her about the empty promises and the ups and downs.
“He broke my phone last Tuesday,” she had admitted quietly.
Aeri’s grip on her hand had tightened. “Why?”
“I don’t know, he just–he came back home angry about something at work and saw me looking at it so he–” a shaky breath, “he grabbed it from my hands and smashed it against the wall.” Jimin had wiped her eyes. “He bought me a new one the next day and apologized, saying he didn’t know what came over him.”
“I’m going to k–” Aeri had gritted her teeth, feeling anger taking over her body.
“I know what you’re going to say.” Jimin had stopped her, furrowing her brows. “That it’s getting worse and that I need to leave because next time it might not be just the phone.”
Aeri had sucked in a sharp breath. Yes, she had been about to say that.
“I know all that, but I can’t leave yet. My sister starts college in three weeks and if I run away now and he ends up running after them, she’ll miss her chance. I–I can’t ruin her life because I couldn’t hold on a little longer.”
Aeri had wanted to scream, had wanted to shake Jimin and tell her that her life mattered too, that she was allowed to save herself, that she had to think about her own well-being, but she couldn’t. She couldn’t tell someone that was already in the seventh pit of hell to try and climb higher without being scared to fall.
“How much longer then?” Aeri had simply managed to ask.
“Once she’s settled in her dorm, once my mom has moved in with my aunt like she’s been planning to.” Jimin had paused to think. “Two months? Maybe less if the dorm accepts to take her in earlier.”
Nausea had risen up Aeri’s throat and she had swallowed hard to make it pass. Two months, eight weeks where Jimin had to keep putting herself in danger, had to keep risking death every time she stepped into this apartment.
Nothing had ever been solely about Aeri and her feelings, everything had always been about Jimin, but she couldn’t help but to selfishly think about her own recovery. How was she supposed to keep going knowing that she could wake up any day with a phone call informing her that something had happened to Jimin? How was she supposed to refrain herself from relapsing when she couldn’t do anything but to wait and to pray for a disaster not to happen?
She trusted Jimin with her whole being, but this had never been about trusting Jimin. Her lover didn’t have much control over the situation, even if she pretended to in order not to scare Aeri. How was she supposed to trust a man to not give in to his animalistic behaviors and do something drastic? She simply couldn’t, especially after seeing the impact of his hand across her lover’s face with her own eyes.
A painful silence had settled between the two, the priest’s voice echoing faintly as merely more than a background noise.
“Do you–” Jimin had hesitated. “Do you still paint?”
“Sometimes,” Aeri had smiled sadly. “Not as much as I used to.”
“Because of me?” Jimin had frowned, and that had seemed to worry her more than anything else happening in her life.
“No, because of me,” Aeri had corrected. “Because I’m trying to find a way back to my creativity without having alcohol coursing through my veins.”
“You look healthier,” Jimin had turned to look at her. “Since then.”
“I feel like my mind isn’t as cloudy as it used to be, but I’ve always used art as a way for me to express myself–” she had paused to take a deep breath. “What is left to put on canvas if I can already feel everything?”
“You being able to feel things now doesn’t mean you don’t need to let it out anymore,” Jimin had grabbed her hand, squeezing it gently. “You’re human, Aeri. If not with words, you are allowed to let it out through your art. Not to try and untangle the mess happening inside your mind since you can now manage to do this naturally, but to try and process it.”