Clementines

| by Anna Rose Cole |

I laid in his bathtub, in his tiny attic apartment and hit my stomach over and over.
I hated myself for having done this, for putting my seventeen year old self through this.
Worse though, I hated myself for putting the only thing that has ever truly been mine through this.
Maybe, I think, if I slowly sink deeper and deeper, into the water, a calmness, will overcome us both.
I don’t just get sick in the morning, instead the intense nausea erupts through me all day.
I don’t realize, however, that it is nothing compared to the pain that I will soon feel.
The most intense, horrific, physical pain, I will ever feel.
I am so afraid.
I tell myself, “you need this pain, you deserve this pain.”
The memory of this pain will keep me from ever forgetting.
When it is over all I can do is crave clementines.
The taste, the smell of those sweet, colorful, beautiful clementines.

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