Ink

She adjusted herself in the leather chair, trying to find comfort. All the questions, thinking back and peering back into memories she once buried was making her want to climb out of her own skin.

“Are you okay?”, the psychologist asked.

She thought, am I okay? Obviously not or I would not be in this office. But her voice said, “Yes, I am okay.”

The doctors face still emotionless then asked, “We are going to do some sort of test. Have you ever heard of the Rorschach test?”

“Ink blots? You want me to look at ink? If you think that will help, then fine,” she felt a little defiant. Maybe because she was worried it would give him more of a look inside. She didn’t want to go in there, much less let him look around.

He lifted up an image.

rorshach

Without hesitation, her body jumped back into the chair. She looked away. A heaviness crept into her chest making it difficult for her to breath. She felt as if she was drowning, the pressure was overwhelming.

“What do you see? First thing that comes to mind.”

She heard his words but was caught up in emotions and didn’t know how to respond. Her eyes fought to not look back over at that face. It was him, mask and all.

Setting down the picture, he tried to soften his tone, “You are safe. Just say what you feel. No judgements. No one can hurt you.”

“I…..I can’t do this,” she whispered as her fingers began to claw at her chest….trying to find a way to breathe. Her eyes darted around the room to try and run away. Hide.

Her mind forced her back to him. She closed her eyes and she could see his face. Green eyes shining, a smile that looked so warm…loving. His hand reaching out to her, “Come on baby, what is wrong?”.  The moment she took his hand, smile vanished, his demeanor changed, eyes changed to steel….he had her again.

He pulled her close, she could feel his breath on her neck as she turned away from him. His words came out like a whispered hiss, filled with anger, hatred and death. Pulling her closer, his arms became a vice around her body. She couldn’t get away. He had her once more.

“Did you really think you would get away from me,” he almost laughed. “You stupid woman. I told you so many times. You are mine, you will never get away from me. Til death do us part, remember?”

Her body weakened against his. Why fight anymore….he is always right. She was a fool to try and leave. He would always be there to haunt her, control her.

As he felt her relax, his grip loosened and he turned her to face him. “That’s it my love. Relax. You know where you belong.”

Her eyes drifted up, his mask was gone and in its place was the loving face she married. If she would just do as he said, he would stay like this. Why did she anger him and cause the other person to come out?

Her hand went up to stroke his face, tipping back her head to kiss him. She felt as she could keep up the act so the pain would stay away. It is then she felt the sharp pain in her stomach. Stepping back she felt something cold inside. Her hands went down and found the object thrust into her stomach. Crimson flowed down, she felt weak.

Her eyes looked back into his.  They were still the loving green eyes that dazzled her before. Then he whispered, “told you I would never let you leave.”

It was then she heard the doctors voice in her ear.

“Oh my god, what have you done?”

Opening her eyes again, she was standing in front of the doctor. Her hands around the scissors that plunged deep inside.

Before she could say anything, she collapsed to the ground. The room was darkening around her.

“I did it…..” she gurgled through the blood now rising up inside her.

The doctor kneeled over her, “You did what?”

A smile drew across her face, “I escaped……”

Her eyes shut once more, for eternity.

The doctor stood up and looked around the room to the mirror, then nodded.

On the other side of the mirror he stood, green eyes in shock….he didn’t think she would do that. He turned on his heels and left, never looking back.

****************

Written for MindLoveMisery’s amazing prompt.  This week was the Rorschach image I used in the story.

One thought on “Ink

  1. Very realistically portrayed I have felt the same reticence and defiance in therapy and while I have not been through this exact scenario there has always been that desperate need to escape myself (and at times in childhood others) and feeling that there is no alternative save for death. A dark piece full of vulnerability.

    Like

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