Obsessive Compulsive Destruction

Finalist in the 'Beyond Words 2015' competition

He used to like it.
He used to give me a loving look as I tapped each pavestone 4 times- he used to like that we were never in a hurry. He used to think it sweet that I was protecting our precious house as I locked each window 4 times. He used to like cutting up my chicken into 4 slices, while he just ate the whole thing like a ‘normal’ person. He used to like me reading 4 chapters before I went to sleep. He used to like having to buy 4 of everything. He laughed at how full our cupboards always were. He found little perfections between the lines of my big imperfection.
He used to laugh. He used to give me an endearing look.
Then I got too much for him
When he walked me home from work, he’d grimace and continuously check his watch - every three seconds- he didn’t even have the grace to humour me and do it every four. He got angry and claimed ‘I didn’t trust him with our safety’ as I re-locked 4 times, after he had already done it. The wide smile that used to light up his handsome face when he cut up my food vanished and was replaced with a despairing, exhausted look. When he’d turn the light off and I was only just starting my second chapter he’d call me selfish because he couldn’t go to sleep with the light on. He’d lie there glowering- disgust radiating off his body. Shopping was the worst though. How he and the checkout lady would have a silent conversation with their eyes- him trying to explain about my condition and her giving me pitying glances. It embarrassed him and he despised me for it.
So, on December the 12th (an alright date as it’s a multiple of 4) he told me he couldn’t do it. Tears formed in his eyes and slowly started to roll down his face, over the ridge of his beautiful cheekbones then onto his blue striped shirt- one of the four identical ones I bought him for Christmas. He told me he had a career to think about and, as much as he loved me, he couldn’t stay to babysit me any longer. He picked up his suitcase and walked out the door, my whole world crumbling around me.
All I could think of was that I’d already brought him 4 similar shirts, only red striped this year for Christmas. What would happen to those?
Days slipped by and turned into months
I was fired from my job as a phone operator in the city.
I have nothing.
No one.
No reason for living without Mark.
So here I am reflecting on the untying of my tragic life after taking 16 fluvoxamine (4 would have been preferable but wouldn’t have been strong enough, 16 is 4 times 4 so it’s ok) and waiting for the light to come and take me away from the dark.

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