Black to blue to fade.

Driving, in my car. Snow crunches beneath my tires. Heater blows hot air. I hear a line in a song, 'from black to blue'. An image flashes through my mind. Fast. Like a comet falling. A hand raised. A slap. A bruise. Sallow yellow. Just forming. Black to blue and fade. Back to black. Sallow yellow.
A woman. Black to blue and fade. Fading into sallow yellow. Fading into nothing.

A man. A woman. Anger. Flash. Black to blue and fade. Nothing.

It goes on. And on. The cycle. A man. A woman. Anger. Flash. Hand. Slap. Sallow yellow. Black to blue and fade. And nothing.

The woman falls. She rises up. Smiles. Cajoling. Encouraging. Anger flashes. The man rises up. Hand raised. Pain. Cry. Sallow yellow heating up to orange. Red. Black to blue and back again. Fade to black.

A siren.

Screaming.

A body. Lying. Cold. Still breathing.

She smiles through the pain. The ambulance jolts into gear. She is carried away. Away from black to blue.

He loves me, she says.

Love doesn't hurt like this, someone answers in the darkness.

She cannot hear.

He didn't mean to do it. It was an accident. She insists.

And their voices fade from black to blue into nothing.

She grows silent.

And goes back.

Not for more. Never for more.

He won't do it again.

Never more.

He promised.

There's always the promise of never again after black fades to blue to sallow yellow into nothing. Always the promise of never more fading away at the edge of happily ever after.

It is promise of what could be without black fading to blue to sallow yellow to nothing.

And the cycle turns and the pain continues and the fear rises and black to blue fades deeper and deeper into unending black. Deeper into that dark space where blackness lives in memory blocked of any colour beyond black to blue. Beyond that place where truth lies. Where life fades from black to blue to constant sallow yellow rising once again to red and black and blue
all over
before
she fades,
away
forever
into nothing.

I started writing this piece yesterday morning in my head. And it would nto let go. When words won't let me go, I have to let them out.

November is Family Violence Prevention month in Alberta.

I wrote this piece in honour of those who cannot/did not/will not get away.