Our hands intertwined, like an unrelenting knot. We strolled through the city, as he kept my close to his frame, protecting me. In moments when a girl is most vulnerable, I was not; I had him. The king of the jungle and his queen. If ignorance be bliss, consider me blinded by him. Naive to the harsh realities to the world, he shielded me from danger. I was untouchable.
As we approached a crowd of familiar faces, his grip around me tightened. Their faces were nothing but a blur to me, his was the only face I dared to look at. I kept my eyes glued to the ground and allowed him to do most of the talking.
Laughter was exchanged and I laughed on cue. Until one of the crowd directly addressed me. Drops of perspiration fell from my forehead, like rain falling in front of my eyes. I looked to him, he nodded letting me know it was safe to speak. I pressed my lips together and smiled; saying nothing was better than something wrong.
But the bullets landed, penetrating my heart as soon as he shot the look. He stares at me, anger festering behind his tiger eyes. Each glare is like a laser, burning my skin. Without saying anything, I have said too much. Put myself in danger.
"What's wrong?" The person asked. "Cat got your tongue?"
No sir, a tiger does.
He is clawing at the inside of my mouth, ripping my flesh with his fangs. He promises the taste of blood for dinner. Please do not give me the opportunity to speak, all that will pour out will be memories of violence, like vomit I can not swallow.
I struggle under his brute force as he pounces on top of me. I am his territory, his prey, his kill. Camouflaged as love, he scratches at my identity. Yet no one sees, not even myself. It was right in front of us all, the entire time. A leopard never changes its spots but a tiger lives for its stripes and wears them proud.
If you have been affected by any of the issues raised in this story, these organisations may be of help:
https://www.citizensadvice.org.uk/family/gender-violence/domestic-violence-and-abuse/
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