Pain and Happiness

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Thrillers  |  House: Booksie Classic


about an abusive relationship. The women had to defend herself.

Submitted: October 01, 2017

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Submitted: October 01, 2017

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Pain and Happiness

 

Pain and happiness are well known. They come together in a pretty package of deep blue eyes and a smile that could kill, all wrapped up in a bow of faked friendliness. I know pain and happiness well, we are old friends. I have seen the deep colors of pain and tasted the tang of happiness on my tongue. He comes home every night and shows them to me. The first kiss before he asks the question “where is dinner?” is a taste of my happiness, but the answer that comes after is my inevitable pain. Fists fly and emotions swirl, making one big tornado of nothing good. After the chaos is over there is nothing but tears and whiskey left in its wake. The day after is when pain shows its true colors, most of them cool tones. The blue and purple that show up on my ribs are his anger and the bright red ring round my neck are his malice. One day the color of pain will kill me, but before then happiness shakes my hand. When he walks through the door his eyes and heart are clear of violence, but it’s me that brings the ingredients to make the mess inside his soul, or so he says. I am to blame, I didn’t have dinner done in time, I showed to much skin at the store or was too nice to the neighbor. I caused the problem that painted pain on my skin. One-day pain will kill me, but it won’t be pain from him. I cannot treat myself to the taste of happiness knowing that colors would come next. I should not only be made to see the colors that are associated with pain, there are more colors out there, more colors that have nothing to do with his hands. I will run. Get away from his acquired taste of happiness and his preferred colors of pain. I will make it. I will not let his hands cause anymore colors, the only color that will come from his hands is red. He will not see it coming. Won’t see the knife behind my back when I greet him at the door the next day. First the kiss comes, then when the question comes there are no words for answers, only room for action. He doesn’t see it coming and that’s why now all he sees is black and I am free.


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