Fight, Flight, Freeze

The feel of skin on skin,

his alcohol stained scent,

his breathing, so fast,

mine, shallow and strangled.

His grunting echoed by fearful whimpers and silenced screams.

The faint sound of cars and trains rushing by -

the busy London night-life continuing unawares -

whilst my world stops.

Others walk past, giggling and chatting while

I'm left drowning in his affectionate words peppered with hunger, hate and threat

Any sound that escapes me met with:

faster breathing,

harsher tones,

twisted words and pain.

The panting slows and the world falls silent

My tears fall freely and

my body aches,

my soul screams whilst I lay,

tossed-aside, torn

glassy-eyed and traumatised.

My feet walk, searching for safety,

my thoughts muffled,

head full of cotton wool,

numbness seeps into my body but fails to reach the pain.

This transport shell, 

my body, longs for rest

feels too much:

feet ache,

legs feel tired,

ears hear everything too late now and the London streets are so loud it's deathly quiet -

arms lay by my side as though they don't exist,

not swaying, 

not stiff,

but limp.

This is the soundtrack, created by him the one which constantly haunts me.

Fight when safe,

Flight after the damage is done and,

Freeze when I need to fight more than anything