Playing With Fire

He destroys everything in his wake
Not through the shattering of vases
Or the cracking of glass
But rather through blood and fear
Saturating the sound of his footsteps on the stairs
And spreading the ache of ice
Through my veins
 
"You need to realize, these problems follow you. It's your fault."

My cat hides when he sees him
Howls low and long
Just as I do when alone
He imprints his fists in the walls
And his spit on the sidewalk
Hopelessness wrenching sobs from my throat

"You aren't allowed to see your friends anymore. They're bad for you."

I learned the art of makeup
Just as I learned how silence would save me
But I never could just stand down  
His anger was like a fire
Spreading and growing, growing
A quiet destruction and violence ruling
His mind and actions

"You make me want to drink myself into a ditch."

Bitch, whore, cunt,
Traitor, liar, asylum patient,
I love you, I hate you,
You're just like your mom,
Crazy, insane,
Bipolar, BPD, anxiety, depression,
Diagnosing me with every mental illness
To escape the blame his own knuckles had

"You better not come back."

Walking on eggshells,
Perfect scores, perfect grades,
Skipping meals, always polite,
Helpful, obedient, sweet,
Perfect,
To never upset the volcano
That slept in the room across from mine
The man that everyone in town thought was kind and generous
Even as the icicles formed in my eyes
And flames lit in my lungs
   
"You're out of control."
   
Nailing my window shut,
Removing the hinges on my door
Hand gripping my hair and dragging me
Along the floor
Holding my face to the wall as melted ice leaked
From my eyelashes
Blood seeping from my bottom lip
Bruises as dark as the circles
Under my eyes
On my arms, throat, jaw, legs, ribs

"You're a liar."

Six, giving a squirrel peanuts, laughing together
Eight, Valentine's Day, handing me a teddy bear and smiling
Ten, me grinning at him with a mouth full of Chinese food
Thirteen, him telling me how proud he was of me
Fifteen, neverending jokes, laughing and poking fun
Sixteen, 2AM bonfires, talking, crying, hugging, forgiving

"You're worthless."

Four, he hit my mother and broke the glass table
Five, he was single and rarely sober
Seven, he was never around
Nine, he didn't talk to me for three weeks because he thought I snuck a cookie
Eleven, the bruises started and fear found a home in my heart
Fourteen, I began to fight back, putting pride over comfort
Sixteen and a half, he locked the door, letting me sleep on the sidewalk in the stains of my own blood
Seventeen, I escaped

"You're dead to me."

What most didn't realize, or ever could,
Was that the person I feared most, hated most,
Was also the only one I truly loved, my best friend
He was my hero
Yet the day he held me down and laughed at my helplessness,
My anger, my tears
I spit in his face as he did to concrete
I realized I was no longer the gasoline to his fire
But water, ice,
The extinguisher to his devastation
While being the arsonist to his rage

"You're not my daughter."