Chokehold

*Trigger warning: abuse*

Your arms snake around the curve of my neck, choking me up, the air leaving my lungs bit by bit as your hold tightens. Fear all of sudden leaves my body and I feel myself relax under your grip. It's only when I'm completely out of oxygen that the panic rises up within me like burning, hot lava. I don't want to die! I writhe and twist against your warm body, trying desperately to wriggle out of your chokehold. Black spots dot my vision, spreading across my line of sight like smudged mascara or perhaps thick black paint as soon as it touches water. Tears burn at the edges of my eyes, the life being sucked out of them with every passing second.

"I'm sorry."

Your useless apology falls upon my ears like a faraway echo of times I'd rather not recall. But I do. I remember every minute of it. I remember it all.

It began with curses under your breath, barely audible to me. Then a push, a bruise, a slap. You no longer remained my lover, instead taking the shape of something monstrous, something I was no longer familiar with; someone who scared me to my core, who made me feel loved at times, but mostly alone.

I should have seen it coming. I should have recognized the looks on my friends' faces, a mixture of horror and disgust when I told them how you pushed me down the stairs because you were too drunk to realize what you were doing. Oh, how I defended you, like my life depended on it. And now look, you're the one taking it away.