Photo credit

Photo credit

I took refuge inside my dreams when Monster would appear, after being on a binge of smoking crack. He would crash for most of the day, or night. When he was slowly trying to recall what planet he was on, he would be ravenous and dehydrated.

It was at this point during his relapse he started plummeting into the belly of hell. I often asked myself why he want to take me with him. The answer eluded me; but I knew I wasn’t going to go with him. I was living in his hell on Earth.

Inevitably Monster started going in my purse and stealing my cash. He held down a job, off and on, but his money was gone before he got it. Crack on credit is what I called it. I had to resort to  hiding money, if I wanted to keep any. He would ask, beg, and plead for money and I would say no. This made him become irate. Monster would call me a bitch, and accuse me of sleeping with his friends. If I wasn’t having sex with him, it had to be with somebody. Yes it was, but it sure as hell wasn’t with any drug addict.

He would break items; destroy things that he knew I liked. Just go berserk. I’d sleep with a serrated knife under the mattress. If his madness became violent, I wasn’t going down without a fight.

I deserved an Emmy Award. I went on with my life, as if everything was fine. I kept everything that I was going through to myself. The pit of my stomach was rotting away; little by little each day.

I started drinking…vodka!

12:25 PM

Vera Robinson © 2014

I pray your dreams be peaceful

Not nightmares of