Phantom Pain

I’m 17 when I meet my first husband. He’s three years older with a job, a car and a means to run away. Our first overnight together is wrought with confusion and pain.

He picks me up and drives me to a motel in another town. We arrive and he runs into the office, returning with a key to our room. We leave again and go out to dinner. My legs start the old phantom throb. I’m not going to be able to stop them from progressing deeper.

My mind races in shame and confusion.

We stop at a local convenience store and he buys a bottle of champagne and some bubble bath. By the time he returns to the car, the pain in my legs has become crippling.

I am paralyzed.

When we reach the motel, I can’t stand up. This is the first time I’ve been back to a motel room since the murder and without my father. The threat of discovery jolts my body into panic.

I look at my suitor and say, “I can’t move. You’ll have to carry me.” And, he does.

This phantom pain I have now learned to honor. In my 20s, I didn’t stop to find its meaning. I just wanted to fucking live, so I drank the champagne and had him draw a bath as hot as the water would run. I did not want to bring my parents’ disgusting choices with me.

Leaving my parents’ house, did nothing to stop my pain. They just couldn’t hurt me anymore – well, kind of. The shackles remained. I had become a prisoner by crimes I didn’t commit.

7 thoughts on “Phantom Pain

    1. Thank you 🙏 You don’t need to read them all. These posts are meant for those hidden in the shadows that refuse to come out because they believe their story is too dark. I’m here to shine light there. Blessings

      Like

  1. Another raw and honest post Jodie, thank you. I’ve nominated you for a blogger award and I hope you’ll accept and participate. I think the awards are a great way of finding out a bit more about favourite bloggers, and introduce them to fellow bloggers. The post will be published at 3pm GMT, Caz

    Like

Leave a Reply to Child Of God Cancel reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: