It had been a year since he had held her. Memories of serenading her flooded his vision, how he would hold her neck close to his face and drink in her scent. He looked at his phone and wondered if he should call for her. Would she be available now? He had even deleted the number. He ran a frustrated hand through his hair.
She had been his refuge from the chaos in his world. He remembered how he would drown himself in her, burying his sorrows in her. She was the only high in his life, the best thing after every tiring day. She had never failed him. Soon it was difficult for him to imagine life without her company. She was the crutch that helped him face the cruel world and kill his demons.
The relationship was perfect until one day he realised just how much he depended on her. He could not see her that day and it drove him mad. He could feel the shivers, the fear, the frustration and there was no one to take away his pain that day, no one to make the day good again. And when he realised he needed her so, he started hating her. Yes, hatred and a lot of anger. How could he become such a slave to her? He was a man bound by nothing, so there was no way he could be bound by her. His independence was everything to him, he held on to it with all his pride. So he decided he would abandon her, nothing should have so much power over him. His relationship with her was because everyone else had ruled his life, she was the only one who gave unquestioningly. So if now she was gaining power, he had to run. He had to.
He ran. Many times, but each time he would return with a new found intense thirst for her. He would bury himself even deeper into her, he wanted to forget, forget not just the chaos, but also the time he had spent apart. But each time after he returned, he felt worse because it meant she had won. She still had that f*ing hold on him. And that’s how the cycle of abuse started functioning. He would pretend he didn’t need her, that it was she who seduced him everytime. He would play hide and seek with her. But he knew it was not her, it was him, he knew it every moment he spent with and away from her. He hated himself, no he hated her for being so powerful. And what was worse everytime he would reject her and then return feeling helpless, she would still be where he had left her. Loyal and as sweetly seductive as ever. What was it about her that he couldn’t let go?
Then one day he returned after his self imposed exile, burying himself deep into her, so deep he couldn’t feel much, so deep he was almost numb. But the chaos wouldn’t go, now the chaos included her too, voices shouting in his head, accusing him of being a weakling when it came to her. He decided enough was enough, there was no point in trying to leave her, because she would still be there if he returned. So what should he do? He had to survive this and he had to win this. He needed to destroy her for his own sanity. Yes he needed to end her, that was the only option. He worked up the courage and he crushed her, that was the only way to take away her power. Hearing the commotion, his servant came running. The servant was aghast at what he saw. But wordlessly he picked up the pieces of broken glass of his favourite wine brand. She was now just a piece of trash. That was a year ago.
As he glanced at the still empty cabinet, he let out a sigh full of yearning. But he knew he couldn’t go back. As he walked towards his bedroom he remembered the doctor’s wise words – Sometimes what you want and love, is not good for you.