Miriam (A Dark Creative Piece)

Hello All! I just want to say that I have 200 followers now and for that I am eternally grateful! For all of you who read, like, and comment on my blog you are AMAZING.

I came across a short story I wrote today, for a creative class in college, and was surprised at how dark this piece is so I decided to share the darker side of me with all my readers. I remember the assignment was to try to write a short-story that could turn into a novel and I honestly thought I failed the assignment. At that time I had no interest in writing a novel because I didn’t think I could but after I received the paper back from my professor I was surprised by her comment. “You underestimate yourself.” Who knows maybe I do but at the very least I can share it with you all and I hope you enjoy!

——

  1. Sometimes I remember. Then I hate myself for remembering. I don’t love you but somehow, I always will. Your hands grabbed at my heart, and you loved it at first. Taking sweet care of it. But, just as the snow began to cover the dried up leaves on the Montana ground, you took my heart and squeezed hard, letting the blood of my being ooze through your fingers. You stood tall above me as if you owned me. As if I belonged only to you. Your words can heal. Your words can bruise. Like a porcelain doll I stood in your world, beautiful and pale. I wish you would hold me. I wish you would let me die. I don’t love you, but I always will. Your eyes, that shine, they are the poison that draws me in. I don’t have a choice. I will always choose you. I don’t love you but I always will.
  2. You know you have done me wrong. Now you know I am not the jealous type. I’ve never been the leaving kind, but you know that I know what you did. Were you just having fun in my big naive world? Was I just a game to you? What about her? Was she just a game to you too? Or, was she just the girl with the pretty name. Did you think twice? Did you think at all? Was she in on the joke? Was it a game to her too? Tell me no lies.
  3. I tried not to hurt you but it takes a lot for me to get this mad. This confidant. I hope you know I punished her too. Crimson was a good color on her. For you though, I was more careful because you wont let me go. I am a girl too lost to save. You tried to replace me, but you didn’t get far. I tried to repay you but I only got scarred. You don’t love me but you always will.
  4. Now, all we are left with is three broken hearts. Did you even try to be faithful? You didn’t get far. I gave you everything, now I watch you in the cinema of my mind. Now, I sit here on the floor wearing your clothes. Never thought we would end up like this. I don’t love you but I always will. I can still feel your breath when I lay in bed, and I close my eyes pretending your there with me. Reaching my hand out in darkness and remembering the look on your face when I decided I was worth more and went too far. Remember when you used to put your hand on the small of my back in public declaring to world I was only yours?
  5. I watch our life, with Lucy, just like I used to watch her sleep. Remember when Lucy took her first steps? She wore those cute white socks that had a little pink bow on the ankle. She was so excited she clapped her pudgy little hands together until she fell over on her butt. I couldn’t get her to stop crying for hours. Remember when you took her away? You said I was an unfit mother and needed to control my habits? I believed you. I was too messy, I didn’t practice my cooking enough, and I did go on too many walks, your right I wasn’t a good wife. But I tried so hard because I wanted my Lucy back. I waited for two years obeying your every command. I missed her so much but I believed you when you said I shouldn’t leave the house and that for right now Lucy was better off without me. Sometimes you didn’t come home for months and I was scared to leave the house to get food because I knew you would be mad if you found out. So I sat there starved. I died every day waiting for you to bring Lucy back to me.
  6. Time stands still here. My doctor says I get better every day and that if I stop believing I am in love with you and that I always will be, I could recover, but, didn’t you say that I could love only you and that you were the only person who would love me in return? I hope you don’t mind I told my doctor what happened.
  7. My doctor asked, “Why don’t you tell me about the day you found the photographs, I believe it would be good for you discuss the details.”

“He always told me ‘nobody is ever going to love you more than I do’, and I believed him. I believed him.” I looked out the window as the tree just beyond the glass swayed with the beat of the wind. I wish I were the wind. Because I doubted that wind had thought and to be without thought would be a dream. My doctor watched me and made some note on her yellow pad of paper. I knew she was waiting for me to continue. “He was gone again. He was always gone, sometimes months at a time. But, he was a fisherman, or so I thought, and that meant that you never knew when he was coming home.” I felt the tears on my cheeks free falling like the leaves that fell from the tree just outside the window. “We lived in the country, the middle of nowhere, we didn’t have a land line, and I wasn’t allowed to have a cell phone. He hated it when I left the house without him, he said ‘too many people stare at you when we leave the house and I cannot allow that. I am a jealous man’. One time I told him it wasn’t true and that he was over-reacting. He was so mad. He didn’t talk to me for hours and when I told him to let it go, he slapped me. I never mentioned it again. Over time he just said it would be easier if I stayed in the house and didn’t go out. I was upset and asked about my job. I was a good sales associate too. He said, ‘it would be best if I didn’t work’, and when I asked why he said, ‘because I wouldn’t be a good husband if I didn’t let you stay home and take care of things’. I told him I managed just fine but he shut me up quick when he pushed me against the wall and covered my mouth with his thick hand. He whispered in my ear ‘I know what is best for you. Are you questioning that?’ I just shook my head because I was beginning to understand that he was always right. He said, ‘good I’m glad we understand each other’ then he said, ‘Besides I was thinking it would be a good time to have a baby’. I smiled underneath his hand. I always wanted to be a mother. All my life I wanted a baby. I was excited and he could tell to because he said ‘See, I told you I was always looking out for you.’ He let go of me after he said that. I didn’t dare move though. And I was right not to move to, because James lifted my dress right then and pulled down my panties. It was painful but I didn’t have choice. I loved him and I always will. I was his wife. Several times after that he would lay me down and try to make a baby. That’s how Lucy came into the world. For three years life was peaceful. James almost seemed changed. He never hit me anymore or anything, we even went on dates and we made love once, you know, where I was allowed to enjoy it too. But when I started asking about working again he got all angry, he kept saying that I was a terrible mother for wanting to leave her in daycare, He was right too. I should have known better.” I stopped talking and starred out the window again.

“You have told me this before. I believe, I asked you another question.” My doctor said tapping her pen on her yellow pad of paper. They said that I would trust a girl doctor better after what happened.

“What did you ask again?”

“I asked you to discuss the day you found the photographs.”

“Oh, I don’t want to talk about that.”

My doctor sighed and tapped her fancy fountain pen on her yellow notepad again. Tap, Tap, Tap… She looked up at the white clock with black letters, like the kind you would see in a schoolhouse, and then back at me. I just starred at her twisting my auburn hair with my index finger. I pled insanity. That’s why I am in this madhouse.

“You need to talk about it Miriam, it has been nine months.” She stated, still tapping her fancy pen.

“Eight months, twenty-three days.” I corrected, meeting her eyes and releasing my index finger from the auburn trap I had put it in. She just starred back at me, wordlessly. I placed my hands on my stomach and continued, “There isn’t anything to say, and you already know everything anyways.”

“I know what a file says Miriam but I do not know your story and your story is what matters.” She placed her notepad and pen on dark oak table beside her plushy red office chair and said, “You matter, Miriam.”

“I’m hungry.” I said wanting to liberate myself form the concern in her voice, the overwhelming since of pity people had for me was exhausting. Nobody thought I was guilty, well it was fifty-fifty really, but people keep saying I had reason to do what I did. I had no reason. He was my husband, well I thought he was my husband, and that is what matters, the commitment I thought I made, the commitment I thought we made.

“Let’s take a break.” My doctor said while standing up.

“Ok.”

I pushed myself out of chair and walked out of the well-polished room and into the dimly lit white hallway. I walked to the bathroom and locked the door behind me. At least I had freedom, I wasn’t considered a flight risk, and I didn’t have to be pill-ed up and monitored twenty-four/seven. I leaned against the door and reached into my bra to pull out the photograph that I have kept with me since that day. Us crazy people aren’t allowed pockets, they said. I looked at the folded up image in my hands. I saw my Lucy, her thick pouty lips curved into the happiest of smiles; she was sitting in that girl’s lap swinging, her eyes were blue and bright and her auburn curls flying. I bit my lip. My Lucy looked so happy, they looked so happy, the perfect life and James was the one behind the camera. It was hard to face the facts they way the doctor told me too and believe that James loved me at all, the way he said he did. My doctor says the way James poured salt into the wounds he created wasn’t love but power, unquenchable power.

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