It’s hard to look at myself in the mirror these days.
I don’t look like the old me.
My days seem darker than usual.
And I can’t seem to focus on the things that used to be important to me.
Nothing matters anymore.
It’s like the things that I thought I couldn’t live without, now I don’t need.
Why is that?
I’m supposed to be getting dressed.
The funny thing is, I don’t know what for.
There’s a dress laid out for me, a blue one.
Anyone who knows me, knows I hate blue.
I don’t understand what’s going on.
I haven’t seen Terrance since yesterday.
I tried to call his cell, but I couldn’t get a dial tone.
I can’t believe he didn’t pay the phone bill!
But, somehow that doesn’t seem important either.
Matter of fact, everything seems to be a little off today.
My things aren’t were they usually are and my clothes are missing.
If he’s given them to another woman…
No, that doesn’t make any sense.
After everything that he’s done to me, I don’t see what giving my things away would benefit.
Besides, Terrance is more of a hands on type of guy.
Meaning he’s been torturing me for the last ten years.
I know torture seems a bit extreme, but it fits.
He’s gone as far as pushing me out of a moving car once.
I was in the hospital for two weeks after that.
He told me once that the only reason I’m still alive is because he hasn’t figured out where to put my body.
I know I seem nonchalant about this.
But when you hear it on a regular basis, it starts to sound like “good morning”.
What happened to me? Why can’t I just leave him?
There’s nothing here that I need nor want.
I can leave with the clothes on my back and never return.
No. He’ll only find me like last time.
And the punishment for that was almost unbearable.
It’s now ten and I feel like there’s an urgency for me to get ready now.
Getting up from the vanity table, I pick up my dress.
Wait, it’s not blue. It’s black. That’s better.
Black seems to be the right color for me. It’s slimming.
Shoes. Where are my shoes?
What the hell am I going to do for shoes?
There’s that feeling again. Shoes aren’t needed.
I look around my bedroom and it feels like this will be the last time I see it.
Suddenly the it begins to fade away.
WHAT THE HELL?
Am I losing it? Oh God, he’s finally ran me crazy.
I hear crying. But it’s not me.
Another room comes into focus and it’s full of people.
More crying. It’s a funeral.
How embarrassing. I’m at a funeral with no shoes on.
The pastor says, “we are here to celebrate the home going of Laura Johnson”.
“What?” I yell. “I’m not dead!”
I rush to the front of the room and find my mother sitting there staring into space.
I’ve never seen her like that.
“Mama,” I say, kneeling in front of her.
But she doesn’t hear or see me.
I look to my brother.
He can’t hear me.
All of this must be some mistake.
I turn to head up front and notice there’s no coffin.
In its place is a photo of me.
I can’t believe what I’m seeing.
I want to panic, but I can’t. I want to scream that I’m alive.
There’s no need.
Suddenly a peacefulness comes over me.
I turn back to my family, lean down and kiss my mother and then my brother on the cheek.
“I love you,” I whisper to each of them.
I walk back down the middle aisle into one of the most beautiful white light I have ever seen.
I guess he did find somewhere to put me.