Sour Patch Kid

***This is a work of fiction. There are hits of domestic violence and verbal abuse within this short story.

I think I made a mistake. The one I love is sweet and kind, most of the time. He lifts me up and calls me beautiful. He’d do anything for me. He’s sweet and gentle. But on some days...

It happened not too long ago, I was tending to the garden while he was in the house watching the game. I could hear his voice elevate from time to time through the window. It sounded like the team was losing. When I came back in he was there in the kitchen bruting about the game. I listened to him vent about people I didn’t know involved in a game I didn't understand. I listened intently, letting his emotions flow freely. He would always get so passionate about it. And when he was done, he would smile and say thank you. He would thank me for giving him my full attention and supporting him while he released his frustrations. Grateful to have me in his life.

Me, a girl with a listening ear. A woman there to build him up when he felt low, humbled by the world. His love, his girlfriend, his loyal woman. Me. I think I’ve lasted longer than the other women in his life. He was a rolling stone before he met me. A bit of a tom cat, going from woman to woman unable to be domesticated by love. He did as he wanted, giving them a good time temporarily… until he met me. I’m not sure what it was about me that changed him. That made him want to be better. Maybe I reminded him of someone he lost, or maybe because I was so different from the others. I will never know why he chose me.

One day while making dinner he bumped into me. He apologized after so I thought nothing of it. Until he stood in my space longer than normal. Hovering behind me. I asked if everything was alright and he said yes then walked away. As we ate, he made under hand comments to me about me. I found it strange; we were in a good place. There was no reason for the rudeness. I brushed it off thinking he was going through something. As I was cleaning up for the night he apologized for his behavior. He said he didn’t mean it; he was just in a mood about something else. Which I figured. I smiled and forgave him and carried on as normal.

After that was love and affection, praises for being good to him. Joy and love as if nothing had ever happened. This went on for some time with no problems in sight. We enjoyed each other’s company, happy to be together.

Until another day approached without warning. His mood soured by something unbeknown to me. I would be greeted by glares and attitude. Anger rising in him from an unknown source. I did my best to stay out of his way but to no avail. I was greeted by harsh words from a man I did not know. Blames and insults striking me like a whip until tears flowed from my eyes. Fear holding me in place as the verbal assault went on. When it was over, I sobbed. Holding myself together with my arms and the thought of the man I fell in love with. I didn’t know this stranger in my home.

Eventually the man I knew came back to me. Asking for forgiveness. Apologizing for his actions, gently touching and kissing me. Coxing me back to him. He explained it would never happen again. That he would be better. And he was better for a time. Joy and happiness filled our home again. He bought me a puppy. A small sweet puppy. I named her Isabel. Isable and I played in the garden most days. She would run around discovering everything she could, only to fall asleep in a patch of dandelions. He would watch us from the window sometimes.

When I came home from the store one day I found Isabel was gone. He wasn’t home either, so I guessed he had taken her for a walk. When he finally came home later than normal, he didn’t have Isabel with him. I asked where she was, and he told me she was gone. I asked where and how but he refused to tell me. I went out looking for her. That was when I learned from the neighbor he had took her away.

When I confronted him, the stranger returned. Yelling at me to let it go, he raised his hand, and I closed my eyes raising my hands to brace for the impact. It never came. When I looked again, he was walking away from me. We made sweet love that night, his attention to my body surprised and excited me. His love for me deep, asking for forgiveness with his body. And I forgave him.

The next time had warnings. I can’t say I hadn’t noticed the change in him because I did. Little things would set him off. Loud noises, a disagreement at work. Things he wasn’t in control of feeding his anger. I tried to help ease the stress. I tried to lighten the burden. Be his ray of sunshine in storm. It helped some but it wasn’t enough. I couldn’t save him from himself. I wasn’t the one to tame the beast inside him. I should have seen it coming.

It was late when he came home, I expected him to smell of alcohol or another woman, but he didn’t. He had been taking his time to get home lately. Grumpy but never angry. Our love making would be rough, but not unbearable. I tried to be everything he wanted me to be. I should have been what he needed. But you can’t raise a man. He attacked me like the stranger I had become accustomed to stalking the halls of my home. Random outbursts of hate echoing in the quiet rooms. Thuds from the force of our bodies colliding in violence. I was almost prepared. Almost ready to escape, hoping that the man I love would return to me for good. Wishing in vain, knowing he was gone from me. Knowing he was never real.

The man I feel for was a mask, a trap to lore me in. Like so many before me, they had escaped his madness. Had they seen the signs before the veil dropped? I will never know. I waited for him every night, gave him my best every day and it wasn’t enough. I wasn’t aware of the zoid that kept him empty. The sadness and anger he carried with him. In the beginning he was so happy and sweet. Attentive and loving. Only to reveal his true self when it was too late. When I was already in love with a ghost. Someone who never existed. A bird caught in a snare. He saw me and caught me.

I would imagine the end of our love. Would it end in bloodshed? Flashing lights with one of us no longer here? Would it be civil? A simple conversation between adults? Acknowledging each other’s faults and agreeing to remain friends. Would I escape in the night, like a thief? Never to be heard from again? Thoughts like these still fill my mind.

Will he argue, ask “what about him?” Tell me I’m a terrible person for leaving him like this. Act like a child realizing they were no longer going to get away with their mischief. Have a temper tantrum. Will he try to scare me into staying, breaking things and yelling? I can’t say. I never know when the stranger will return.

What I do know is that I see him for what he is, an opportunist. Preying on unsuspecting women. Preying on me, draining me of love, hope, expectations, my dreams. All of it being robbed from me. Stolen time and effort, for a man I loved who couldn’t love me in return the way I need to be loved. The way I want to be love. Regardless of how many times we do this dance of pain and forgiveness. The balance of just enough to keep me, just enough to seem like he is trying. Just enough to keep this relationship alive.

I see it now. I know in his own way he does love me. But I also know his love won’t fulfill me. When will I tell him its over? In the middle of a fight? Or a random Tuesday? Will I have a new lover before I end it? This I can’t say.

What I do know is that I can’t love a sour patch kid.