There are places in this house that are hidden, secret places that I cannot get to. There are locked drawers and fastened tight doors. I don't like it.
There are things said that have motives behind them, there are times when I know I trust too much.
There is a time, every day, when a car pulls up onto the driveway and I physically tense. A sigh releases from my mouth, involuntarily. I wait for the key in the door.
I am waiting. I am stuck. I have been told that I risk everything if I leave now, legally I need to stay put.
There are moments when I have to speak, when all I want to do is ignore. There are times when I have to look at a person I no longer wish to see.
There are emotions in me which I don't recognise, which I despise in myself. There are times when I want to hiss and spit, cat like with fur flying.
Tuesday nights are my time alone at home with my children. I get respite until 10pm.
Having put them happily to bed I settle down with a glass of wine, sink deep into the sofa and load iPlayer on the TV.
At 8.40 the car drives onto the driveway, I wait for the key in the door, I curl up and sigh.
There are moments when I am not myself.