I look at my hands to see if I drew blood. They're shaking as if I had too much coffee.
But its night and I had too much booze and anger.
I asked him to tell me the truth and he just stared at me. I wanted to hurt him.
To cause him to bleed.
I felt like MY insides were bleeding from my erupted heart.
My eyes were on fire from my ignited rage. Which caused hot tears to pour straight out of them with accompanying primal screams.
I look again at the white walls spattered with meat and tomatoes and beans. He brought me this offering thinking it would somehow sooth me. But to his surprise it was turned into a hurling wet weapon of frustration.
I never knew that my hate was so close to my hands. I thought I kept it well hidden in my gut or behind my kidneys.
The bed is rumpled from my sitting and lying and crying on it.
Now I'm standing at the closed door and staring at the chili patterned wall deciding on my next move. I'm sure the neighboring rooms already called the desk to complain and freak out.
But it all happened so fast that I'm certain I can plan an escape.
I didn't bring any luggage with me. Just my bag. I look around for it and spot it partway hidden by the bedspread at the foot of the bed.
I'm partway hidden myself and not just from my long hair hanging in my face but from years of holding my feelings in close behind my smile.
Tonight I let them rip and if I don't leave in a hurry I'm positive hotel security or worse the police could be on their way right now.
I slammed the door into his bent head when he tried to pick up his dropped keys. I'm guessing that hurt like hell.
It's the first time I ever hit someone.
I tried to punch him but I'm slow and his reflexes were ready.
I'm shaking my head. I never knew I had it in me.
I walk to the bed as though I'm under water and reach for my hidden possession. Everything has slowed down for me as the impact of what I've just done dawns on me.
I need to get the fuck out of here fast and get help.
But who can help me now?