Ficlets

People are asking questions. Wanting know what I’m going to do. How I’m going handle the situation. I’ve been inside my head for days.

The headache is the only constant. The ebbing throb that moves around my skull lighting up each area of the brain like a medical diagram.

Phone calls at 7 am reminding me that I would be a complete idiot to associate with someone who’s demonstrated mental instability and violence. As if I could forget. As if my life the last three weeks hasn’t been replayed over and over every night as I struggle in my search for sleep.

Phone calls from a man whose dubious behavior earned him the title of abuser, crazy, and toxic by others. Worried that he’d snap one day and hurt me. I defended him. This one is the one calling me worried. Worried about my safety and life choices.

I crawl back into my head. Into the pseudo comfort of the throbbing pain.