W
Wisdom3_1-9
he/him/his
- Jul 19, 2020
- 1,939
Before my husband had even come home from work today, I left the house. I just needed time.
I drove through nearby towns. I drove by the house of the person who ruined my life. I drove by the homes of people I used to call friends.
I parked downtown and went on a short walk across a bridge that crosses the Mississippi River. There was a lookout point on the bridge. I stood there and stared at the rushing water below. I imagined how wonderful it might be to stand atop the rail and just throw myself off, letting the Mississippi take me. The bridge is only 60 feet high, though. I'd probably just get really hurt and end up dying of the hypothermia or drowning. In any case, it was nice to fantasize.
I got home four hours later than I normally would have. I had no reason to be out. No plans. I was expected to be home, My husband did not text me once. He didn't call. Not once in the four hours did he express any concern for my whereabouts or wellbeing. This is the same man who, five months ago, sprung into action when I was missing and got the police and a friend of mine to pick me up in a hotel an hour away. Tonight — nothing.
I think he's come to expect that I'll do it. Maybe he's more ready than I think. Maybe he was even hoping for it, which is why he didn't even try. Maybe he wants me to do it, then he'll finally be free.
It doesn't feel good to be back home. The bottom of the Mississippi seems much more inviting at the moment.
I drove through nearby towns. I drove by the house of the person who ruined my life. I drove by the homes of people I used to call friends.
I parked downtown and went on a short walk across a bridge that crosses the Mississippi River. There was a lookout point on the bridge. I stood there and stared at the rushing water below. I imagined how wonderful it might be to stand atop the rail and just throw myself off, letting the Mississippi take me. The bridge is only 60 feet high, though. I'd probably just get really hurt and end up dying of the hypothermia or drowning. In any case, it was nice to fantasize.
I got home four hours later than I normally would have. I had no reason to be out. No plans. I was expected to be home, My husband did not text me once. He didn't call. Not once in the four hours did he express any concern for my whereabouts or wellbeing. This is the same man who, five months ago, sprung into action when I was missing and got the police and a friend of mine to pick me up in a hotel an hour away. Tonight — nothing.
I think he's come to expect that I'll do it. Maybe he's more ready than I think. Maybe he was even hoping for it, which is why he didn't even try. Maybe he wants me to do it, then he'll finally be free.
It doesn't feel good to be back home. The bottom of the Mississippi seems much more inviting at the moment.