Through the Eyes of a Fallen Angel- Reality

Wrapped in the arms of love, warmth enfolds all that is cold inside. Her hand strokes my hair and I calm down and relax. Not something I do often. She felt me shake with fear, the cold sweat bathing me in guilt, shame, and embarrassment. She woke up to my quiet screams of desperation, the alarm clock to her soul. In my ear she whispered everything that was the right thing to say. She knew what it was I wanted to hear or maybe she meant it. 1

I am but a child in her mother’s arms it seems. Though she is not my mother and I am not a child. The blanket traps me like it is made of lead. Throwing it off of me, as if she reads my thoughts, she becomes the blanket that keeps me warm, keeps me safe. I am but a wasteland of desperation in her arms. She rocks me slowly to the rhythm that is her heartbeat. It becomes mine as well. We were two separate people upon waking but now we are one.2

I can still feel the arms of hate claw at my eyes, at my sheer existence. I know she feels it too. Though she has not met the Man as I have, she has her own. Maybe that’s what makes us one at this moment, the knowledge and experience of the same exact thing but different. Or maybe it’s understanding. Maybe all it is is love. 3

She kisses my head and whispers that it’s ok. Two words that have never sounded that way from any other lips. She knows what ok means. The lessening of my shaking encourages her to move us. We move as one organism to lie down on the bed. 4

I listen to her heartbeat.  It is soothing and intoxicates me like a drug. However, it is not one of the sleeping pill variety. Her heartbeat, her aura, and her existence at this is moment have become a sedative to the pain of my nightmares. Emotion is drained and she knows it. She feels everything that I cannot at this time. 5

Whispers in my head are keeping me in a state of disillusion, all that is my reality is holding me in her arms. The effects of the nightmare linger on all my senses. It replays every time I blink, my eyelids are a screen to all that haunts me. My ears screams all the words I pretend to not to notice. Ringing with words that stab like knives. Tasting the bitterness, the hate, the blood, the essence of the Man, I try not to vomit at the memories that are still all too real. The smell of the Man’s breathe, the sex, the dirt, and filth kills my olfaction sense. The feeling of the Man’s rough skin, my body ripping in half, the death of my soul afterwards, crawling in the filth like a rat. 6

All of it starts to fade back into memory as she holds me close to her heart. The sound of her heartbeat racing snaps me back to reality. She’s scared. I scared her. I fell apart on her and now she fears she cannot hold me up. She fears for my safety, my life. The reassured becomes the reassurer. 7

I push myself up on my side. She leans on her elbows to look at me, keeping a safe distance. Just enough space is between our bodies to let us look in the other’s eyes. She sees the eyes of a fallen angel, I see the eyes of a broken goddess. We share something stronger than love in that moment and all the strength we thought we had to hold onto for the other we let go of. The last of our strength folds in on itself and we fall helplessly weeping into the other’s arms. 8

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