Beth.

I stand there frozen. Looking at him, looking at me.
How did we get here, how did I get here?
My days were filled with housework, organising playdates and cooking for my family.
And now? Now I can’t seem to breathe without putting myself in harms way.
I’m taking risks with my life, with my family's lives.
I feel exhausted.
I feel anxious.
I feel alive.
I haven’t had a good nights sleep in months, waking in the middle of the night, asking myself ‘what am I doing?’
But then I remember why I started this in the first place.
To provide for my children, to take back control.
To be someone other than a housewife whose husband was cheating on her.
I’m in what feels like a whole new world.
A world with access to unlimited money, if you’re willing to work.
I feel alive.
I like the rush, the chase and the danger.
I like the freedom I feel, the part of me that believes I’m unstoppable.
I like him, the rush I feel when he appears unexpectedly.
The chase, he’s the cat and I’m the mouse.
The danger, as he holds a gun to my head.
I’m looking at him.
Tears start to roll down my cheeks but I’m not moving.
He’s looking at me.
With his other hand he brushes the hair away from my face.
The street around us is quiet, secluded, dark.
I’ve seen enough movies to know that his gun pointed at me has a silencer and there’s no cameras in sight.
It’s just him and me.
The tears have stopped now. Maybe I’ve ran out. Maybe I’m not scared anymore.
He leans towards me, whispering in my ear ‘go home Beth’.
He gets in his car and without looking back at me, drives away.
Realising I’ve been holding my breath, I breathe out as I watch him leave.
I miss him already.

Photo by Luis Felipe Lins