The next time you come here, I hope your feeling a little better. I hope the bruise on your face have lightened or gone away. I hope your jaw doesn’t hurt so bad when you try to brush your teeth. I hope that the ugly bruises on your chest and torso have dimmed and that the bruises on your breast are less tender. I hope that you are able to walk without the pain that I see you in as you hold your posture erect.
I always want more pictures of you. Pictures you send to me just to let me know your thinking of me. But the photos that you sent me are startling. You are so beautiful, but the pictures tell of something so ugly. They make me so angry at “the Asshole” that it makes me sick to my stomach. I can’t imagine what they must do to you and how much courage it must take to push on each day with that horror in your past. The contract between such a beautiful woman and a woman cover in bruises churns my stomach and angers me.
I know this is not about me, but it affects me. I’ve been in combat and seen many ugly things and it has opened old wounds. I lay in bed at night now scared. Not for me but for you. Wondering not if your safe but if you feel safe, because I know how hard it is to sleep at night when your scared.
I have nightmares now. Ugly nightmares. Nightmares where my past and your present merge and where you are avenged. Nightmares that confuse me because the past and the present can not be there together, but they are. I have nightmares where I wake with an uneasy feeling not remembering what I was dreaming about, but were I awake in a panic thinking of you, but I don’t call because I know that you must be struggling to sleep too, and calling could interrupt a sleep that I am sure must be difficult to come by.
I have so much more to say, but I will no say it now. Just know that my heart if tender for you and that I long to help and to continue to help. I’m so glad that you have the courage to push this in a legal system that is slow and non-responsive and I’m glad that you lean on me in the absence of others. I don’t know what I could do If I couldn’t help. I’d go crazy.
Stay strong and press through until “the Asshole” is in prison. As hard as it is to swallow the indignation of this whole thing everyday press on because what you don’t want is to let him get away and to have to rinse and repeat.
Thank you for letting me spend so much time supporting you these past several days. I love you very much little Girl. Please mend.
- Nightmare (monokalisto.wordpress.com)