It’s been two weeks. Two long, lonely weeks have passed since the last time I saw you.
I’m done crying. I’m done waiting for the phone to ring, and I’m done worrying about you.
I spent last night shoving everything you left behind into a garbage bag. Your clothes, your mail, your old pair of Nikes, the half-empty bottle of shampoo you left sitting on the corner of the bathtub. I tore up all of our pictures and threw them away as well. I cried at first, remembering how much I loved you once. Then I thought about all the times you hurt me over the last five years, and I realized that you don’t deserve my tears.
You took so much away from me. My friends, my family, my future.
We never talked about that, did we? You knew what you did that day. You held my hand in the ambulance and sat beside me at the hospital. You didn’t speak up when the nurse asked what happened to me– I lied for you. I still don’t know why. Maybe it’s because I thought you might change after that. It might have been fear that made me lie. Whatever it was, I wish I had told the truth. I should have told them all that you did it to me, that you killed our baby as it grew inside me.
I stopped loving you that day. Did you know that? I think that you did. You were nice to me for a little while after that, acting like I was more to you than just a punching bag. It was too late, though. You took away the one thing I had left, and you showed no remorse. I hated you so much, but I stayed.
I stayed because I had nowhere else to go. My family wouldn’t take me back, and I couldn’t support myself waiting tables. So I stayed in that apartment, and I waited for you to start drinking again. I’d wait until the bottle was half empty in your hand, and then I’d say something to piss you off.
Sometimes you’d hit me. I’d watch your fist come towards my body, hoping that this time would be the last. This time, you would finish the job. But you never did. The part of your conscience that still remained always stopped you, and I hated you more for that.
But now, it’s over. You left without saying goodbye, without giving me a reason. You were just gone, and I was happy for the first time since the night we met. You told me for years that I could never do better than you, and the truth was that you couldn’t do better than me. I don’t care where you are anymore– lying in a gutter somewhere, sitting in a jail cell, or sleeping in another woman’s bed. You’re finally out of my life, and now I have the chance to get that life back.
My only regret is that I didn’t see through you sooner.