Parklife

He calls me in the middle of the night.

"Come round. We’re having a party"

I realise there is no party. This is him and I. It's difficult for me in these situations, trying to keep a safe distance so that the natural chemistry between us rebounds off the people in the way and deflects to save the day. Not tonight; tonight it's all too close.

It's like he's keeping me trapped and he's hurting me. He's kicking me and pulling me and pinching me and wrapping me up in the blanket so I can't breathe. I get out of the clutches of madness and sit on the  chair having a cigarette.

He vomits. I get him some juice. He calls me a dick-head.

He comes stumbling back into his room where I’m sat, waiting for normality to return. He falls into my arms; cuddle-time. Wanting him to feel better, I try, but he's too forceful and he's drunk. I place my hands gently on his back; it feels like the closest I've ever been to him. Part of my soul smiles, but the reality frowns hard - hard enough for the lines to come shutting down like barriers. I'm sober as a judge and would rather avoid the awkward sexual nature between us tonight - only to wake up tomorrow and the whole thing be forgotten.

“You fill up a lot of my thoughts, you see - ordinarily. I've wanted to be here before; I’ve wanted you to want me”

I can't communicate this to him, as he's too busy trying to lift my dress up whilst I laugh it off and try to make moves to leave. I manage to run downstairs, hand in my pocket, searching for keys - only to realise they're on the floor of his room.

The door opening wakes him up, and he says;

'That's it now, you're trapped'.

He doesn't realise what this means for me, or memories that it drags up - being forced to stay, forced to lay, forced to pray for him to let me out. He bundles me back into his duvet - and he's strong. Without wanting to sound dramatic I tell him I can't breathe, but he won't understand. I kiss his cheek and tell him to calm down.

"Why are you hurting me?"

He says he wants to hurt me all the time - in a good way.

I'm silent because I don't understand and I'm not sure what to say. He starts to fall asleep again and I wait there, my legs held down by his, my head squashed under covers and pillows. His breathing steadies. I stare out at the sky beginning to get lighter, welcoming day time.

I want to go home. When I'm sure he's in deep sleep, I shuffle out of the vice clamps, sneak my keys from his hand and creep back downstairs. I keep the door open whilst I put my shoes on; I can see the exit and I feel fresh air again. I miss him now, but I don't want him like this.