Urgh. Last night I had my first nightmare for a while. I wish I could have nightmares about the things people are meant to have nightmares about. I wish I could dream about fucking.. ghosts or aliens or something, at least that wouldn't be real. But my nightmares.. they're all just memories, of all the shit that went before, and I was just
about getting used to the old four years ago shit, but then it happened again and I have a whole new shiny set of nightmares.
I'm so happy with you, but God, I'm so miserable whenever I think about the past. It's not something I can help, it took something from me the first time and I never got it back, it got replaced with something different, and then he took that from me, and that's been replaced with something different but it's never the me I was before I
met him, I'll never be the same and while I like the way I am now sometimes I miss being hopeful, and optimistic and alive and childish. I managed to hold onto that even after Dad died, and it was harder to hold onto after Mum killed herself but I managed, I made myself because I had Maggie and my Gran and while life was really bloody
shit, I still had my whole life ahead of me to make it not shit.
That's what Brian took from me. And I feel the pathetic need to stop saying his name, to replace it with something more insulting, or just more vague. I'm tired of living with him even when he's nowhere near. 75% of what I am today comes from him, from everything he put me through. I'm so armoured, even when life is making me so happy like now I have a guard that I'll never quite let down, I have this pessimism I'll never shake. Everyday, I think it might be our last because somehow, he'll have wrecked it. You'll decide I disgust you and leave, or even- in my terrifying, worst case scenario as happened before- he'll do something again. Living with that hanging over me isn't fun, I feel ill all the time and as you have quite plainly seen, I can't eat. And I'm fully aware that I really need to eat.
You say you love me. Have you any idea how long it took me to convince myself that you're telling the truth? Pretty much up until you proposed. And even now, I get scared. I don't think you're lying, no, I know that if you don't love me it's not your fault. I just get so terrified that you've made a mistake, and sooner or later you're going to realise it- everything is moving so fast, and it's wonderful but it's terrifying at the same time. I don't know what to do if you leave me- except that, I do, and that's even scarier, because I've done it before. A few times, which is not something I should really talk about.
I just.. God, sometimes I wonder if you don't realise just quite how fucked up I am, the person you've chosen to spend your life with, I wonder if I hide it without even meaning to. When I met you.. I was still cutting, not eating, drunk all the fucking time. I went to that club in Athena to get picked up and used and allow myself to be used and train myself not to care, because then it would hurt less. I knew- still know- one of my friends has a gun and was just counting down the days and the hurts until I could use it, on myself, and just fucking leave. That failing, I had a whole different array of methods, though I learnt Christmas before last that the drowning thing really doesn't work. You said once- I think it was when you were drunk that time- that I was damaged, probably beyond repair. I'm not sure what made you forget that, maybe it was because you're fixing me every single day, even if you don't realise it. I'm not that fucked up anymore, honestly I'm not, and I don't want to die so long as I have you, and I don't cut and I don't drink all that much now, and I'm really trying with the eating thing. I mean, it would be really nice if all of my friends hadn't decided to abandon me- but that I can live with, and be a bitch about, when there's you.
I don't know why I've gone off on this tangent, I was meant to be detailing my dream, I guess talking about him just reminds me what he's done to me. I'm trying to get better..
It hurts, with the friends thing, because Brian took my friends away from me- or took me away from them, against my will, whatever- back in Glasgow, and this time everything was meant to be ok because I had them, everybody promised me that things would be ok, they wouldn't let him get to me, they'd all be around me. Let's see, I was left on my own… and he got to me, and nearly killed me. No, it would still be ok, they'd help me get better, they were so many, all loving me. The only one who stood by me was Scarlett. The only one. Orlando got a new boyfriend and ran off to Manchester, the first time he spoke to me out of hospital was over the phone, and then every time I saw him after that "oh look, Billy, we're going to practically have sex in front of you, just to drum it into you what he did a little bit more."
Ok, so now I feel horrible, it would be a good time to detail the nightmare. Memory. Flashback. Thing. And stop being such a bitch.
It's all the time, you know. I always dream, even if they're not nightmares they're fucked up, I never just.. sleep. But I guess there is a plus side; I always wake up needing you.
This time was a memory, straight forward, no fucked up twists or illusions, just a memory of what he did the last time, being tied inthat fucking chair and the blood running down my face where he hit me, and that's the feeling I always remember; warm wetness on my cheeks and the side of my head, and the copper tang in my mouth. The doctor
said I was lucky he didn't kill me. Of course, I didn't feel it at the time. I was just tired, I could quite happily have gone to sleep and never woken up. I was angry with everyone. Anyway, tangent again- there's a lot inside and sometimes it doesn't come out in the order it should. So I'm tied sitting in that chair, can't see a damn thing it's so dark down there, and he hits me a few more times before untying me, and obviously my first thought is to get away but he's 6 foot something and a hell of a lot stronger than me, asks me- asks me if I kept my hole open for him and I just feel sick, then he does what he does- and I'm not going into detail there- until I'm bleeding (I'm told he tore something), and leaves me there to die. And the next thing I remember is hospital, though I'm told I was awake and crying before then.
Yeah, typing this is.. really hard. Meh.
The trial, I'm uh- I'm terrified, really. It's.. I know there's a very small chance of me losing, but there is a chance and it's there and that's always going to be at the back of my mind until they say the verdict, and I have to see him and do you really think that crappy little, small town security are going to be able to keep him from getting to me when I'm standing right there? In the corridor, or wherever. He tried last time, but you know- Glasgow's a big city, the courts there can afford good security. Athena doesn't even have a Starbucks. And I know I have to do it, I know I need to do it otherwise it's hanging over me my entire life, I want it gone. But then there's always the fact that they don't hand out life sentences for rape.
I want to live, and the past few months have been so so wonderful because I am, with you, and I intend to keep it that way. I'm happy. When there's you.
I love you.