“I hate you,” I screamed as loud as I could, throwing my glass at him. I felt so uneasy and scared to be alone with him. “I hate everything about you!”
He didn’t even flinch at my words, or as the glass barely missed him, shattering on the ground. Instead, he snickered at me with his shoulders hunched. “I hate you too.” He said much calmer than me.
I was hysterical, writhing in anger. I was so aggravated at how calm and relaxed he was, while I was getting more and more upset.
Before I lost my nerve I spoke again, “You make me so sick. You took everything good about me and turned me into nothing. I constantly don’t feel good enough. Because of you, I don’t like myself, I feel worthless and unwanted. I have felt like such a burden to everyone around me. All because of YOU!” I gathered my strength and stomped closer to him. I needed to see his face, it had always been hidden by that stupid, black, disgusting hoodie he always wore.
Today, I wouldn’t leave without seeing his face. As I stormed closer to him, I heard him take a deep, ugly breath.
I stopped, not wanting to smell his breath.
“I wouldn’t touch me, if I were you. I might be contagious.” He turned his head upward with laughter as he spoke. It sickened me to watch him. I knew I should stay away but couldn’t help wishing I was brave enough to touch him.
I sat down and started crying, I wasn’t a mean person, yet I screamed at him as loud as I could, “You are a monster! I want you to suffer as much as I have suffered. No...I want you to suffer more. I want you to feel the pain that you inflicted on me. You found all the darkness and ugliness in me that I never knew I had, and brought it to the surface.”
As he circled over me, tying me up in his darkness, so much of me was too tired to keep fighting, I wanted to lay down and give up. My courage began to fade. “I can’t keep fighting,” I said, “I can’t keep doing this, I don’t have anything left.”
He was happy to see me defeated, “I knew you would give up.” He said mockingly. “I knew you didn’t have it in you to keep going. No one can beat me. I win every time.”
As I sat there sobbing uncontrollably, somehow the tears began to give me strength. I might feel weak, but these emotions were very strong. It was time for me to accept what he was and what he’d done to me. “You’re right, I don’t have the energy to fight you. But guess what? I’m not fighting you alone and because of that, I can win.” He was sucking the life right out of me. This battle had to end with one of us winning. With God at my side, I stood up, ready to fight.
The ugly, dark figure was surprised when I stood up, “You know you can’t beat me, you are too broken.” He whined. I even hated his voice.
Everyday I had to fight to keep going and I wasn’t going to let this awful thing in front of me keep me down, even though he was the one who broke me. I prayed silently, and he glared at me like he could hear my thoughts. Courage filled my whole body as I staggered toward him. Quickly, I tore the crusty, black hoodie from his body, so I could see his face.
He was more ugly than I had imagined. His teeth were black, his face was more of a mythical monster than human. I detested him. But for some reason, seeing him gave me even more strength. I could finally see what I was fighting.
He was Lyme Disease.
The stronger I grew, the weaker he became. He gasped for air as he tried to speak, “You are killing me.”
Hearing those words should have made me sad, but it didn’t. I wasn’t sorry he had to die, because with his death, I could live.
I didn’t realize I was holding his hand until I dropped it, as he took his last breath. I looked at him one more time and yelled, “I am SO not sorry you are gone!! You are the most horrible thing I’ve ever known!”
As I left him, with a smile on my face, I knew with each step I would be able to put all my broken pieces back together.
Somehow I would become even better than I was before.