Pain Never Leaves You by Terveen Gill

I wake and find that it’s in the bathroom, waiting for me to join it. It sits on my toothbrush, restless to give my lips a kiss. I brush like there’s a demon in the depths of my mouth, it must be purged before I utter a single syllable.

I spit. And rinse.

Perhaps I’ve lost it but it sings in my ear, nibbling the lobe. It supposes itself my lover, but I’ll have no part in this contemptuous charade.

I’ve carried it for so long, yet it appears no lighter.

Bite. Chew. Swallow.

It’s eating my face, bit by bit. My eyes are two hollows, my cheeks almost gone, the curve of my chin too slim. I feel it beneath my skin, slithering, freely exploring me.

Scratch. Scratch. Scratch.

My fingernails dig into my flesh. It breaks and bleeds.

But the rogue is too quick for me. It spills out of my nose into my lap, splashing around my bare feet. I try to kick it away but it’s too slippery. I fall and rise – fall and rise – watching my self-esteem die in front of me.

Why won’t it leave me?

It takes my hand and pulls me. I drag behind it, no willpower, no desire, no one to rescue me.

They say I’m a lost cause, a fruitless effort.

I say they better watch out for it. Not a soul has escaped it.

It laughs and laughs while I shrink in a corner. Then it cries like a baby that hasn’t been fed.

Something’s burning.

It’s my brain.

My chest feels empty.

Where’s my heart?

It fell into my stomach.

Now I’m always too full to eat. Too tired to sleep. Too scared to face it.

It wraps around my shoulders and gives them a squeeze.

I whisper – please leave.

It slinks through my eye and hisses – pain never leaves you.