Cold Calm
It was good that my hair was up in a bun. I could feel the heat of the burner. I had turned it off only moments before. His enraged face was only a breath away from mine. His hand pressed to my chest, bending me backward over the stove.
I don’t remember what I said. I don’t remember the match that set him aflame. I can remember the heat of the burner radiating up to my neck. I can remember being grateful that my super long hair was not singeing, because that’d be harder to hide. I remember thinking with the cold part of my brain how far to push to get him to let go.
I remember the fridge tilting up on its feet when he slammed me into it. I remember the feel of his hands on my throat when he pinned me to the wall.
I never remember what I said to create those fires. I only remember the calm descending, the calculating on what to say to get him to let go. I didn’t cry though. That would have only encouraged him.
“She was never abused, if she was she wouldn’t fight back, she’d cry and apologize. She wouldn’t do it again.”
You were my family. I thought you’d have my back better than that. I never thought you’d stand with my abuser.
I guess you forgot about the times he drove me into panic attacks and couldn’t pull me out of them. I guess you forgot about having to come upstairs and talk your sobbing granddaughter out of her own brain. I know you weren’t there when he grabbed my ponytail and threw me into a corner, I fell apart, like a puppet with cut strings. You didn’t see the times Nox climbed into my lap to rescue her mother and bring her mind back to reality.
I couldn’t predict the sang-froid. I couldn’t predict the panic attacks. I could only use the cold calm when it manifested.
Like the time he shoved me at the top of the stairs. His mistake was that he was at the top of the stairs and I was on the landing. It took him at least 2 steps before he regained his balance. He snarled “how dare you”. I calmly replied that next time he wouldn’t catch himself and I walked away. That earned me a day of peace and wary distancing on his part.
I don’t remember what I said. I don’t remember the match that set him aflame. I can remember the heat of the burner radiating up to my neck. I can remember being grateful that my super long hair was not singeing, because that’d be harder to hide. I remember thinking with the cold part of my brain how far to push to get him to let go.
I remember the fridge tilting up on its feet when he slammed me into it. I remember the feel of his hands on my throat when he pinned me to the wall.
I never remember what I said to create those fires. I only remember the calm descending, the calculating on what to say to get him to let go. I didn’t cry though. That would have only encouraged him.
“She was never abused, if she was she wouldn’t fight back, she’d cry and apologize. She wouldn’t do it again.”
You were my family. I thought you’d have my back better than that. I never thought you’d stand with my abuser.
I guess you forgot about the times he drove me into panic attacks and couldn’t pull me out of them. I guess you forgot about having to come upstairs and talk your sobbing granddaughter out of her own brain. I know you weren’t there when he grabbed my ponytail and threw me into a corner, I fell apart, like a puppet with cut strings. You didn’t see the times Nox climbed into my lap to rescue her mother and bring her mind back to reality.
I couldn’t predict the sang-froid. I couldn’t predict the panic attacks. I could only use the cold calm when it manifested.
Like the time he shoved me at the top of the stairs. His mistake was that he was at the top of the stairs and I was on the landing. It took him at least 2 steps before he regained his balance. He snarled “how dare you”. I calmly replied that next time he wouldn’t catch himself and I walked away. That earned me a day of peace and wary distancing on his part.