Seven Seconds
Every seven seconds I think of something I’ve done to ruin your life. Every seven seconds I remember what you looked like when you used to cry.
I always liked a drink, you knew that before you married me. You were never too keen on the whole affair, I think it was that little vice of mine that took you away in the end, but I digress.
“For fuck sake, Valo” You were begging me, you‘d never called me that in a fight before “Stop bitching and talk to me about it!”
“Oh fuck you,” I swaggered, knocking over picture frames sitting on the kitchen table with my white knuckled fist wrapped around the neck of a bottle of red. I was staring through you and shouting my words out across the room. God, I was so drunk “y-you don’t know how hard it is being me!” I bit sharp into my numb bottom lip.
I’d made you cry again, I hate remembering what I did to you. But I didn’t particularly care right then. Somewhere between picking up the shattered glass of family photos and cutting my hands I noticed you weren’t standing by the counter anymore. I heard the apartment door slam, and you were gone.
one
A few days later we’d made up, that wasn’t so uncommon. This kind of thing seemed to be getting more frequent, and I’d lay off drinking and smoking a few days as we settled back into the role of happily married couple again. It never lasted more than a week.
two
It was the coming Friday that I fucked up big time. It was your birthday and I promised we would share the whole day together. I even planned a reservation in your favourite restaurant, roses; I was so determined to do better this year.
But that never worked out. Right about a half hour before coming home I ran into an old buddy of mine a few blocks off-from back in the day let’s say. I had the money to buy you those roses I had an eye on in the corner florist, but what did I do with the $30? Me and my buddy turned the opposite way down the grubby sidewalk and went and got wasted. The moment my glass smacked against the peeling old bar top I knew some things weren’t going to change.
three
When I finally managed to get home it was 11pm and all hopes of a night out or laughing over the past year were thrown swiftly out the window. Clumsily opening the apartment door and shutting it again, I made my way through the living room towards the bedroom. Your friends had obviously been with you in my absence, because the bottle of champagne I’d bought us was empty and a cake was sitting half eaten on the table amongst brightly coloured and ripped wrapping paper in the darkness. Passing the abandoned party feast I stepped on something which cracked under my Chuck Tailors. Candles from the cake, just a few which had gotten lost from the others and rolled onto the red carpet somehow.
four
Climbing into bed with pretty much all my clothes on I caused you to wake up. I looked into your blue eyes and gave a slow, stupid grin. You were frightened of me. You pulled back when I tried to kiss you, but that wasn’t going to sit with me. So I persisted. I can’t remember it all but through the slurred memories I suspect it wasn’t long before I found myself on top of you and you were struggling to free the hands I pinned above you.
“Please, please…please stop it!” you were too crushed under my weight for screaming, you were squealing“oh God please Ville, your hurting me”
I didn’t listen to you one inch. I think I was laughing quietly. I was defiling you with kisses all over your throat and then far lower. I didn’t stop.
“Happy birthday baby…”
When I woke up the crisp white sheets and mattress were covered in your blood.
five
I found you in the living room, curled up on the sofa nursing a cup of coffee. You wouldn’t look at me, but I didn’t care because I had such a killer hangover. After an aspirin and a cigarette I sat down next to you and cuddled you close to me. It was about then I noticed your wrists were black and blue with bruises from the night before. I kissed them like it was normal.
“I’m sorry Bam” I whispered kissing your temple tenderly and stroking your cheek.
“That’s okay” you said simply and quick, then looking me in the eyes. You would have forgiven me for anything “s-should I clean the sheets now?”
“Yeah,” I smiled, happy “that’s for the best”
We never talked about what happened that birthday, and before we knew it months had gone by with just the scattering of a few hiccups along the way. We went for walks in the park, out together with friends, all the things you’d imagine to do when you’re in love. No one brought up my drinking habits, even when they were plainly obvious to anyone.
That was until I came home from work one day, wrecked out of my mind again at 4 in the afternoon. When I couldn’t find you in the living room or the kitchen I started to wonder, and even further still when your voice didn’t yell at me for breaking a vase on the mantle. That’s when I went into the bedroom. That’s where I found you.
And that’s when I found you in bed with another man.
I don’t even remember what happened after that, all I remember is the morning. You were packing your bags and you had a black eye. I knew then I must have beaten you.
six
I begged you not to go, but fuck it would never have worked even trying. So you left, and the last thing I saw of you was your hand pressing a few crumbled and filthy dollars into my palm. You said it was to ‘buy you release’. There would be no more chances to hurt you again.
That was two months ago, and I can’t stand it anymore. Am I half dead or half alive? I can’t decide which is worse. That’s why I’ve decided what I’m going to do about all of this.
I’ve finished a bottle of the same champagne I bought for your birthday, my clothes are the neatest I’ve been in about two years, and I’m standing in the middle of the living room on one of the dining room chairs.
The time is 12pm, and I stub out the last of my pack of cigarettes and quickly check the ropes tight enough, I got it from the garage.
I can’t help but think, I brought this on myself, didn’t I? I thank God you had sense to get out while you could.
It’s 12:00:06; I kick the chair out from under me.
seven
The End
I always liked a drink, you knew that before you married me. You were never too keen on the whole affair, I think it was that little vice of mine that took you away in the end, but I digress.
“For fuck sake, Valo” You were begging me, you‘d never called me that in a fight before “Stop bitching and talk to me about it!”
“Oh fuck you,” I swaggered, knocking over picture frames sitting on the kitchen table with my white knuckled fist wrapped around the neck of a bottle of red. I was staring through you and shouting my words out across the room. God, I was so drunk “y-you don’t know how hard it is being me!” I bit sharp into my numb bottom lip.
I’d made you cry again, I hate remembering what I did to you. But I didn’t particularly care right then. Somewhere between picking up the shattered glass of family photos and cutting my hands I noticed you weren’t standing by the counter anymore. I heard the apartment door slam, and you were gone.
one
A few days later we’d made up, that wasn’t so uncommon. This kind of thing seemed to be getting more frequent, and I’d lay off drinking and smoking a few days as we settled back into the role of happily married couple again. It never lasted more than a week.
two
It was the coming Friday that I fucked up big time. It was your birthday and I promised we would share the whole day together. I even planned a reservation in your favourite restaurant, roses; I was so determined to do better this year.
But that never worked out. Right about a half hour before coming home I ran into an old buddy of mine a few blocks off-from back in the day let’s say. I had the money to buy you those roses I had an eye on in the corner florist, but what did I do with the $30? Me and my buddy turned the opposite way down the grubby sidewalk and went and got wasted. The moment my glass smacked against the peeling old bar top I knew some things weren’t going to change.
three
When I finally managed to get home it was 11pm and all hopes of a night out or laughing over the past year were thrown swiftly out the window. Clumsily opening the apartment door and shutting it again, I made my way through the living room towards the bedroom. Your friends had obviously been with you in my absence, because the bottle of champagne I’d bought us was empty and a cake was sitting half eaten on the table amongst brightly coloured and ripped wrapping paper in the darkness. Passing the abandoned party feast I stepped on something which cracked under my Chuck Tailors. Candles from the cake, just a few which had gotten lost from the others and rolled onto the red carpet somehow.
four
Climbing into bed with pretty much all my clothes on I caused you to wake up. I looked into your blue eyes and gave a slow, stupid grin. You were frightened of me. You pulled back when I tried to kiss you, but that wasn’t going to sit with me. So I persisted. I can’t remember it all but through the slurred memories I suspect it wasn’t long before I found myself on top of you and you were struggling to free the hands I pinned above you.
“Please, please…please stop it!” you were too crushed under my weight for screaming, you were squealing“oh God please Ville, your hurting me”
I didn’t listen to you one inch. I think I was laughing quietly. I was defiling you with kisses all over your throat and then far lower. I didn’t stop.
“Happy birthday baby…”
When I woke up the crisp white sheets and mattress were covered in your blood.
five
I found you in the living room, curled up on the sofa nursing a cup of coffee. You wouldn’t look at me, but I didn’t care because I had such a killer hangover. After an aspirin and a cigarette I sat down next to you and cuddled you close to me. It was about then I noticed your wrists were black and blue with bruises from the night before. I kissed them like it was normal.
“I’m sorry Bam” I whispered kissing your temple tenderly and stroking your cheek.
“That’s okay” you said simply and quick, then looking me in the eyes. You would have forgiven me for anything “s-should I clean the sheets now?”
“Yeah,” I smiled, happy “that’s for the best”
We never talked about what happened that birthday, and before we knew it months had gone by with just the scattering of a few hiccups along the way. We went for walks in the park, out together with friends, all the things you’d imagine to do when you’re in love. No one brought up my drinking habits, even when they were plainly obvious to anyone.
That was until I came home from work one day, wrecked out of my mind again at 4 in the afternoon. When I couldn’t find you in the living room or the kitchen I started to wonder, and even further still when your voice didn’t yell at me for breaking a vase on the mantle. That’s when I went into the bedroom. That’s where I found you.
And that’s when I found you in bed with another man.
I don’t even remember what happened after that, all I remember is the morning. You were packing your bags and you had a black eye. I knew then I must have beaten you.
six
I begged you not to go, but fuck it would never have worked even trying. So you left, and the last thing I saw of you was your hand pressing a few crumbled and filthy dollars into my palm. You said it was to ‘buy you release’. There would be no more chances to hurt you again.
That was two months ago, and I can’t stand it anymore. Am I half dead or half alive? I can’t decide which is worse. That’s why I’ve decided what I’m going to do about all of this.
I’ve finished a bottle of the same champagne I bought for your birthday, my clothes are the neatest I’ve been in about two years, and I’m standing in the middle of the living room on one of the dining room chairs.
The time is 12pm, and I stub out the last of my pack of cigarettes and quickly check the ropes tight enough, I got it from the garage.
I can’t help but think, I brought this on myself, didn’t I? I thank God you had sense to get out while you could.
It’s 12:00:06; I kick the chair out from under me.
seven
The End