Victim or executioner?

He saw only her face. Her

face contorted in a monstrous grimace. A mixture of hatred, contempt, and fear.

And her mouth… the corners of her mouth turned downward… flecks of saliva ejected… with every word… shouted directly into his face.

He was taller than her. Her eyes reached his chin. She was hitting him with her hand. At least she tried to reach his face with her nails. He grabbed her hand, squeezed it, watched the spasm of pain… then let go. And waited for her to do it again. He didn't really know how many times. He didn't want to explode. He tried. He tried so hard.

He knew the feeling of losing complete control. When his body came alive with its own life. When he, the master of his own body, became merely an observer. It was preceded by a sudden surge of energy, a trembling of every muscle, and a pounding in his ears. Then there was only chaos and emptiness. And then… resentment… at himself… that it had happened again. That he had lost again. He tried... Yes, good intentions... he remembered and smiled... the road to hell is paved with them.

Again, a few words. They hurt terribly. They touched the most delicate part of his ego. They hurt more than any slap... He fought with himself. Anything to avoid exploding. This would work...

And again, a mixture of insults, cynical contempt. How much longer could he endure?

She knew all his weak points... she knew the memories that were still vivid... that always hurt equally.

She drew from this knowledge by the handful. Again, a few words. Again, that gaze... again, those eyes.

Looking, he wondered if it wouldn't be possible to count all the bloodshot veins in the whites of his eyes. They were so distinct, he probably would have succeeded.

Again, those flecks of saliva, thrown with hatred onto his shirt. There were already quite a few.

A few more stupid, unnecessary words. A few ruined things. A torn shirt collar. Blood dripping down her cheek, leaving four distinct nail marks.

He grabbed her by the hair with his hand. He pulled her away, out of reach of her nails. She was kicking him... she was screaming something...

He couldn't hear anymore... the first blow was an open hand to the cheek. He saw her pupils dilate. Then everything was obscured by falling hair. He felt pain. He didn't know where... she probably hit him. He repeated the slap a few times. Still holding her hair, he felt her resistance weaken. He punched her a few more times... he probably punched

her. He let go of her. She fell. Actually, it dripped onto the floor... The torn blouse and blood... that was all he noticed... He lost...

*

He was very happy when they finally moved in together. They had been dating for a few years. But it wasn't the same... he was glad they would finally be together forever. They would stop playing, they would be stripped of each other's feathered coats. He was delighted to discover her tiny weaknesses every day. He fulfilled his role as protector and organizer of their life together.

He loved the moments when he came home in the evening, when she was waiting for him. When he saw that she had done so many things all day just for him... He loved her... sincerely, with the devotion of a dog.

In fact, he had subordinated his entire life to her. Anything that didn't fit, he simply threw it away, discarded without regret. Like an empty cigarette pack. He didn't look back. He forged his happiness. And he was aware of it. And there was no point... he was drawn to the availability of sex.

It was available at any moment. And he eagerly took advantage of it. She was damned attractive to him. He didn't dwell on tomorrow. There was no point. Long-term plans can only make him unhappy... if they don't come true or are even delayed.

He had created his own paradise. He had earned it. Quite hard. He deserved it after years of endless failures. He was his... completely... selfishly his... completely his, down to the smallest detail. And so, day after day, he rediscovered himself with renewed strength and began to believe in his luck more and more.

*

Another empty morning. He should have eaten breakfast. But he didn't really feel like doing it. He'd end up with coffee and a cigarette. That was the norm these days. Almost a miracle diet.

He turned on his phone. Although it took a moment to do so. He pondered, holding that damn phone. He was afraid.

The bags under his eyes were exceptionally dark today. They contrasted even with the not-so-clean sheets, which were once white.

Cigarette, coffee, cigarette... maybe another coffee in a moment...

Thousands of thoughts... chaos...

Familiar illusions...

The phone rings... he knows who's calling... there's no need to even check...

It's stopped... relief...

It rings again... he knows it will ring if he doesn't answer this call...

It's like this every morning...

He picks up that hated phone... he reluctantly presses the green receiver button...

Silence...

A moment of consternation...

I'm listening, he says, trying to give his voice a natural tone.

"Come back," a woman's voice drawls out the word on the other end. "

We've talked about this dozens of times already," he wonders how to explain it again. "

Come back to me," the voice persists. "

Please, forget about me," he says hopefully, perhaps this information will finally sink in. "

I'll forgive you everything," the voice filters into the receiver.

I don't want to be forgiven for anything... let me go... don't torment me... I want to be myself again... – he started screaming.

Honey, it'll be like before, just come back... I don't want to be alone... – his voice intensified his torment.

Fuck it, I don't want your forgiveness, I don't want my remorse, I don't want to live like this, you won't turn me into a monster anymore, I want to break free – his clenched facial muscles heralded unyielding determination.

It'll be alright, I miss you – the voice refused to accept the information – you can't even argue.

From now on, honey – he slowly emphasized the word – forget you ever knew me.

He pressed the button. He hung up.

Paradise is a myth. A fairy tale. Sweet, comforting, optimistic… but a fairy tale nonetheless.