I Let You Go

by Clare Mackintosh

loving the fact that you were so happy, and that it was because of me.

I loved you so much it frightened me; I didn’t realize it was possible to want someone so badly

you would do anything to keep them. If I could have taken you away to a desert island, away from everyone, I would have done it.

“You don’t turn me on anymore,” I said. I rolled over to face the wall, and shut my eyes. You got up for the bathroom, and I could hear you crying as I went to sleep.

“Happy now?” I lit a cigarette, knowing it would infuriate you. “Can’t you smoke that outside?”

“You may as well drive,” I said, “as you won’t be drinking.”

“You’re hurting me,” you said under your breath. “People can see.”

I drove faster, to show you I wouldn’t be governed by you.

I denied anything was wrong: first because I was too blinded by love to see the cracks in my relationship, and later because I was too ashamed to admit that I had stayed for so long with a man who hurt me so much.