Time doesn’t heal all wounds.

As I pulled my fingers from my face and studied the tears that dampened my skin I had one pulsing thought. I want to make him bleed one drop of blood for every tear he has ripped into my emotions to produce. I want to reach into his chest and constrict his heart so that he may have one tiny glimpse into what he has done. Anger, my old cherished friend, laces her fingers through mine. We stare back at each other, and I can’t help but mutter an apology to the young girl that I was, who was so sure that life would be better down the road.

Sweet, young, beautiful version of me, I am so sorry. Your soul screamed night after night for relief. I wish I could go back and tell you. I wish I could tell you that we would escape him. He will not rule our life. He will become a horrible distant memory that we set aflame and bury. They will see him for what he is. They will, I promise. They will see everything you’ve been trying to scream about all these years. I would lie to you and tell you that screams would not echo through your future home. I would tell you that she will get away too. You’ll have some of the dream you always hoped for her. I would tell you that you won’t be like her. You will not hide in the closet crying, and crying, until there is nothing left. You will stand, you will wear your scars like armor, you will not fear the pain that rips through your skin. You will walk through fire but you will be so much stronger in the end. I would hold you tight and promise that the weakness you feel now will be obliterated.

What I wouldn’t tell you though. I wouldn’t tell you that ten years later your chest would feel hollow. I wouldn’t tell you that sometimes you wonder why you must continue to exist in this life. I wouldn’t tell you that you fell in deep love, but love and pretty words don’t keep you from pain. I wouldn’t tell you that I’m not actually sure if it ever gets better.