One's Regrets

Drifting smells of salty ocean tickle my nose; delight my senses. Waves curve forward, licking my toes, and then retreat.
I had never been so happy to be at the ocean near our Maine home. Away from him. He could, well, he could….
I stopped trying to form thoughts and lifted up my shirt, just a bit, to see it. A kind of sick, horrified glory rose in my throat as I stared at the huge bruise, mottled yellow and purple. If I had lifted my shirt up all the way, you would see twin bruises and scratches over my chest.
He scared me like nothing I’d seen before. When he was in a rage he was relentless and I was petrified.
I closed my eyes and absently reached a hand to my ear. From behind it I pulled a beautiful white flower, yellow like sunshine near the middle. His hands had lovingly caressed my cheek, slipping the flower behind my ear, trying to succumb me to his sick, distorted reality.
He had.
I hated him. But just for a moment, I was safe here, a lone soul on the ocean, on the edge of the world.

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