with every pass of the ultrasound probe, running over tender ribs to scan through the gaps between the bones i remember the full weight behind every single kick.
a lifetime has passed; the bruising has not.
lying sideways on the couch, i feel pain; my ribs creak and ache under the ultrasonographer's probing.
flattened into the carpet, absorbing kick after kick.
deep breath in, and i fill my lungs to provide contrast; she probes some more, refreshing old wounds.
unable to breathe, silenced - winded by your first punch. felled. exposed. inert.
breathe, she instructs.
breathe, i told myself as you crawled into bed beside me, seeking reassurance in my arms.
just breathe.
Note: this happened a long time ago, in another lifetime; sometimes the memory triggers then fades again. However, it really troubled me recently that the women in the trial kept in contact, until I remembered my own story; I too sought to normalize the situation; never reporting the assault; trying to make things work. Victims seldom follow The Script - I stayed for another four months trying to be a good girlfriend. The only correct way to respond is to survive.
