Tuesday, 6 July 2010

Here is what happens that nobody speaks about:

1.) Boy slips down concrete set of stairs, knees buckle, jeans rip, blood spills, drunk and gasping. They have ran off shouting and laughing. Could call the police but won't, doesn't, he isn't hurt enough, they didn't do enough visible damage. Phone dead, face red. Injuries are already turning into grazes and bruises - mementos; the pain mutes into a throb. "Faggot!" they shouted. Their fists came, he broke in two. Pulls himself to his feet. Up, onwards, home. Wakes up with his face stuck to the pillow: dried blood.

2.) Miscarriage in the shower. She didn't know she was pregnant.

3.) Puts a pillow over her face when he fucks her. 20 years of marriage and his eyes are still vicious but he never looks at her. Lurches and grunts, one last thrust - he pulls out, penis quickly flaccid, embarrassed-looking, slopping against each thigh wet from her insides as he goes into the bathroom. Alone, she breathes rapidly, turns over. Between her legs, what he put in her slips out, sticky, sad, expected.

4.) Long sleeves in the height of summer: stabs whatever she can lay her hands on into her arm. A glass of wine for courage and then the razor digging inwards. It is as graceful as a ballet - the frenzy is over - she sighs, leans her head back. But the hysteria resumes (that unexplainable feeling inside her heart!) and she needs it again - fast, quick, a flush of red. Afterwards: washes her arms, applies a makeshift bandage. Sleeps easy most nights. Wakes up smiling and does not look at her arms.