daily affirmations except it's just a row of sticky notes taped to the mirror that say "bitches love me cuz they know that I can rock," "bitches love me cuz they know that I can rhyme," "bitches love me cuz they know that I can fuck," "bitches love me cuz they know that I'm on time"
You gripped the handle tight, so tightly it was almost glued to your sweaty palm. He looked so peaceful like this, eyes closed and his breathing calm. Almost too calm. In a way, It made you second doubt yourself despite having planned this for weeks. Maybe months? It's not like it mattered anymore, but slowly, time blended together. A disoriented blurry mess. There was a time when you counted each passing day, carving tally mark after tally mark into the grimy walls by the dingy mattress before being moved into the house. New walls to be confined to.
His actions recently presented nice and caring to an extent, but the words he regulary spat weren't. They were laced with bitterness and poison, proving no change nor care. The way he spoke never changed. Never will. You looked back down at the butchers knife before back at Bo. It was the first thing grabbed from the kitchen in a hurry. Rising the knife slowly, your hands shook uncontrollably with all sorts of emotions gushing out at once. Like vomit, it couldn't be held back.
You hesitated for too long because in a flash, his eyes shot open, and like that, the knife clattered to the floor. Bo's instinct was quick, better than yours, to say the least, as he was already up with a hand around your shaking wrist and the other shooting up to your throat. Closing around it tightly, squeezing the wind right out of you. His lips were moving and his face was contorted with anger, but anything coming from him fell on deaf ears because your ears rang louder than possible, and it became hard to think or even see straight. Seconds felt like an eternity, almost as if time became sluggish. But as soon as his hand moved from your throat, the air all came rushing back at once. Like how reality would. Too harsh and quick.
As a result of that night, you ended up restricted in more ways than one. Noticeably, Bo became more paranoid and cautious in both daytime and night around you. The kitchen was now strictly off limits. He made sure of that first thing. Life was much harder, and he made sure of it. You couldn't help but mourn the possibilities of what could have been if you moved quicker. What even made you hesitate in the first place? Was it Bo? It couldn't have been. It was fear, or at least that's what you reassured yourself.
