Fridges Are Cold

Fridges are cold. They're supposed to be cold. They're supposed to hold lunch meat and leftovers. People decorate them with maganets and pictures, but after everything they are still cold.

I can still remember how warm my throat felt with the pressure of his hand gripped from side to side. Oddly, his strength was what attracted me. Funny enough - no matter how cold you are, the moment you can't breathe your lungs burn and your throat sears. My back chilled as he pushed me harder against the fridge. His eyes as cold as the fridge that held me. Everything begins to fade. The only thing I know for certain; the fridge is cold.

Toby never hurt me before - sure we argued - but every couple argues. We had begun arguing more often. I didn't know at the time that he had relapsed. He told me in his past that meth was his escape. He needed it. Forgetting his drug-abusing mother, forgetting his dead father, forgetting prison, forgetting being raped (for years) - forgetting the cold that was left behind. There's no excuse, but as far as excuses went it seemed like a good one.

I suppose I should've seen it coming. The anger I had seen before. Scars in the walls, doors, and even the dent in the fridge served as reminders. Red flags I chose to ignore. I knew he had the rage lurking underneath his icy blue eyes, but I told myself lies. "My love is enough. I'm enough to change him. I can change him." How wrong was I?

The argument was benign. Words we had forgotten as soon as they esacaped, but his grip was firm. Seething cold fingertips that wretched around my throat. The last puff of air from my lungs escaped as I felt my back collid with the cold, unmoving fridge. I lost the light. I lost reality. No white lights. No dead realatives reaching for me on the other side. Cold. Dark.

I was lost but for a moment. My eyes peeled open; the light too harsh compared to the darkness they escaped. I fled that day taking the few things I had moved to his house. My throat didn't hurt - not as bad as the cold from the fridge. I was hoping against my best instincts that the fridge might move. Might break the burning in my lungs.

The fridge never moved.

But it's okay, becuase fridges are cold.