Deborah Cully

A story of love

It was the beginning of the end of a long abusive relationship. No more fear, no more feeling not good enough, no more control, no more starvation, no more isolation. Only freedom. But it came at a cost. My children, who I lived for, who kept me alive, placed in foster care. I was too unstable and emotionally damaged after 11 years of abuse. My world, fell beneath my feet. I was lost, now alone in this empty house, the silence was deafening. The walls held their laughs, their worries, their tears, their playing, their mischievousness. It was haunting. Disturbed in the night, I heard a cry, he’s calling out for me. I woke to silence, remembering they’re no longer here. Waking up each morning to lay out 5 bowls and fill them with cereal, adding the milk and laying out 5 spoons, only to remember I stand here in this house, alone. They are gone. Breaking down in tears, I felt suicidal. Haunted by memories, for the last time, I seen them playing with toy cars, laughing and being kind to one another. Was I going crazy?