This is routine for her now, nothing new

Every other day it’s like a re-run

She had every action, every movement, every word recorded in
her mind 

She tries to forget

But every time she tries

The images just get clearer in her head

She tries to ignore

But with every attempt

The words just get louder

She tries to escape

But no mater how hard she tried

She just kept running back into it

Giving up was the only option

So she would have to live with it

She would have to live with hearing the car door slam at
3:00 o’clock in the morning

She would have to live with waking up at 3:01 and feeling in
her stomach the sensation of torture and depression

She would have to live with the living room lights turning
on at 3:04 burning her sensitive eyes

She would have to live with the obvious whispers going on
below her bedroom

She would have to live with the slow increase in volume of
the voices downstairs turning, changing, altering into
piercing shouts

She would have to live with all the cuss words, the hurtful
words, the damaging words, the wounding words that would
play and replay in her mind one million times not knowing
that every word was stabbing her being

She would have to live with hearing a flower vase, or
mirror, or wine bottle break and shatter down to pieces,
every piece of glass another hole in her heart

She would have to live with the sudden halt of the argument,
because of the break, those seven seconds the most quiet yet
still the most painful of all

She would have to live with hearing the loud, excruciating
stomps of feet on their way back to the front door 

She would have to live with the echo of the accelerator of
the car outside her window, slowly fading as the vehicle
drove farther and farther away from her “sanctuary”

She would have to live with the sound of the weeps, and
sobs, and cries of the fragile, broken figure under her
room. For every tear downstairs that hit the wooden floor,
there was a drop of red, hot, sticky fluid that stuck to the
bathroom sink

She would have to live with the moments every night that the
figure that used to be below her would enter her room with
eyes red and teary making sure that her baby girl was
comfortable and secure in the calm of her room

She would have to live with the whole in her heart, in her
soul that could not be filled back in

She would have to live with it

Live with it all

She would have to live with it for the first 18 years of her
life

She would have to deal with it, suck it in

Unless….

Unless she made a choice

Would she choose to rid her body of the liquid that keeps
her alive?

Was that what this would lead to?

But was it worth it?

Is it better to live with the heavy burden of life and wait
for it to change?

For it to get better

Or to not live at all~*