Floating

by theodotdoron

My bloated tummy carries me over the creeps he still manages to give me. Fifteen years on, just the prospect of him having found me, having looked for me gives me the ultimate shivers. One sugar rush after the other lifts me off the ground into the clouds. Terror grips me at the thought of him cyber stalking me like he did only three years ago. And eight years ago. And phone stalked me ten years ago. And stalked me in the flesh twelve years ago. And strangle and threaten me fourteen years ago.

Yesterday the odds of him having found me were still very small, but even being raised from zero to one mades it a terrifying increase. Chances are he knows me. Chances are he knows my new name. Chances are facebook made it all possible yet again. So, deactivate my account. Deactivate all accounts. Brand new start. Yet again. I hate you, facebook, for always loosening your security settings. As much as I try to stay protected, you force me to take those drastic measures yet again. So that he won’t find me, yet again.

One time he did, many years back. He crossed borders and waters to find me, and he did. He just stood there in front of me out of nowhere. Panic grips me. What pictures did I have on that hated facebook account giving away what information about my whereabouts? Other images return, those locked away in my mind. Of him standing outside my house hurling abuse at me. Him telling me of his imprisonment with his menacing voice, just to put me in my place. Of him obsessing over me many many moons after our paths had long untangled.

I want to throw up. All this chocolate I had. All these memories I have. Can he not disappear? The Bible tells me to pray for my enemies. I will pray while I vomit, ok? Last time he found me, I feared for my life. After so many years, to hear from him, in that threatening manner. Better watch out, he found you before. The hazard is felt throughout my limbs. Everything is tense. Memory of fear must be stored in muscle tissue. I want to cry. My tear glands though remember the peril by tensing up.

Finally, I can draw a deep breath. I mutter the name of Jesus under my breath. This is the only sensible action I manage in this present state. My tummy starts to untangle. I begin to feel a headache after all the surplus sugar. One more deep breath. The dread, then and now, put me in a state of shock. It slowly recoils. A deep sigh escapes. I look out the window at purple and yellow fluffy clouds and still feel absolutely nothing. If only I could be really floating, high up there, with them, far removed from the fright. Dear God, help!

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