Sometimes now i look down and i see the small faint marks, some gone silvery, and just a little raised, I could almost forget how they got there.
Some nights when Geraldine didn’t give me the injection from the brown bottle, ( turns out it was vetrinary grade ketamine)
He used to keep a bucket of bugs in the room, now and again, just for fun he’d pick one up with some tongues, squirt it with lighter fluid, set it on fire then drop it onto my naked body, then he’d fall about laughing while i screamed and tried to buck the things off me, the louder i screamed he the more he laughed. Tarantula’s, scorpions, roaches, whatever he found.
Every day I wonder how i didn’t manage to get hold of something and set fire to him, then the sensible side of my head kicked in and i remembered all i had to do was stay alive long enough to get my kids out and back to their father.
At this point all i really wanted, was to die