It took me seven years.

S

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V

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N

Seven. Years.

Can you imagine?

Seven years of neglect?

Seven years of abuse?

Seven years to walk away.

Secretly I left sooner.

I left when the stick turned pink

And he told me to kill her.

I left when he pushed us

D

O

W

N

Those concrete steps on a cold December night.

I left when the need for alcohol

Was found in between couch cushions and frantic panic.

I left four years before he even noticed.

I checked out of that hotel.

I took my baby

My first one full of grace.

I took my second baby

She had his eyes and face

I took my third baby

The one who carries his family’s name

I took my babies and we ran.

Ran

Ran

Ran

As fast as we could.

Started over, or did we?

We went from one addict to another.

My mother.

My mother used what had happened

As some sort of badge.

She told all her friends.

“My daughter is a survivor!”

Ha.

I didn’t wear that badge.

I would not be a victim.

No, no, no

My children would not know that version

They would not hear that story.

I would be strong

I would do what had to be done.

I pulled up bootstraps I had not pulled up in 5 years.

I did my time.

I pushed forward.

I did it with tears in my eyes.

I did it.

I fucking did it.