Member-only story
SURVIVAL
Silence Ended Us
What goes around comes back around
Six messages. All unopened. All staring up at me from my phone screen, waiting, expecting. Expecting something I didn’t have to give.
I threw the phone down on the couch next to me and rested my gaze on the wall ahead. Not today. I couldn’t today.
I’d leave my friend’s messages unopened for days, maybe over a week, I don’t remember. Everything was a blur then. They all wanted to know how my maternity leave was going, if the baby was sleeping, if she was laughing, if I could send photos. The questions were exhausting. That’s what I’d tell myself.
Fear was the real reason I couldn’t reply. If I opened those messages, if I read the chatter from happy people living their happy lives, it reminded me that something was very wrong with my life. And that was something I wasn’t ready to face.
How could I answer a question about the baby sleeping when I spent every night awake with her crying in my arms as I monitored my drunk and abusive husband?
How could I answer a question about enjoying my maternity leave when every moment was spent tracking my husband’s behavior patterns to know when to take refuge in the nursery?
