My cheeks bulge as I shovel another bite into my mouth. I gasp for air, but I do not go up for a breath; I only plunge myself deeper. Yet, each bite tastes harsher than the last, just like the words he says are a harder and sharper blow than the last. Each word that spills from those lips wrenches my heart into something that cannot be discerned. I have heard these words so many times, but the pain never ceases to hurt as much as the first time. I am sick of these words. I am sick of listening to them. I am sick of believing them. In all the mixture of emotions, the most I feel is anger. It bubbles in me like a pool of molten lava. I take a breath and hold the fury in, knowing that angry words will only make it worse. Yet a soothing pitter-patter fills the air, outside, unaware of the rage and fury, inside, slashing at its serenity. Tiredly, I look to see a downpour that begins, each droplet washing away yesterday’s filth.
Taking the last bite, I push my bowl away and walk upstairs, taking the lightest steps that I can; maybe this way I can be invisible. I reach my room, my haven, and heave myself onto my bed. Curling into a ball, I shake off all the bad thoughts and trace the raindrops that dart down my window. I watch as they race each other in an endless stream of water down to my windowsill, until the sudden longing to be as boundless as the water enters me. It thrashes in my gut and pounds in my head. I slide off my bed and in a trance, I tread downstairs to our clear patio door.
He is downstairs, but he says words that I do not hear. All I can hear is the steady beating of the water. Watching and waiting for him to leave, I press my hands against the door, feeling the smooth silky glass against my chapped palms. The steady rain becomes a drizzle bit by bit. I feel the longing becoming fainter and fainter. He does not leave as I grow more and more desperate. I stand trapped in his world, just waiting and waiting to break away so I can finally believe in the action of free will. At last, he places the last dish into the sink, glances at me, and leaves to attend to his nightly routine.
I eagerly slide open the glass door and step outside. I stand for a moment, hesitant to the direction I should take to my path of independence. Nevertheless, it is not my mind that paves the path I walk, but my heart, and in my heart I know exactly where I yearn to be. Obstacles lay in front of me, as if challenging and testing my need for not a taste of independence, but for the whole image. I will not yield nor will I surrender because fighting for what I want only makes the end a little more worthwhile. Taking a deep breathe in, I stride to the barriers and climb my way over them. And what I find on the other side is truly amazing.
The defensive branches of the trees drape over me occasionally letting a droplet slip past its fingers. These devious droplets come plummeting down into my sanctuary causing the drops to creep around my body. Each drop sends a shiver down my spine, making my legs shake and my arms tremble. I watch the water sliver about while reviving my parched skin. The grasses sway and hum to the beat of the wind causing a low and gentle whistle, barely heard underneath the steady drum of the water. But it is the scent that captures me. It is unbound from the stench of harmful words and artificial smiles. In its place are the sweet aromas of sincerity, appreciation, and life without spiteful words. I close my eyes and sigh,
“Freedom.”