Last Greyhound out of NYC

by Cole Cipriani

 

For months I had been telling myself that the next time he hit me would be the last time I’d ever see him. Yet my actions always went against my words. I was addicted to the idea of how I could fix him.

When we first met, he was very appealing. Easy on the eyes, but rough around the edges. He was known for having a rap sheet, but when I saw him, I just had this feeling that I fix him. Our first few months, our relationship was wonderful. He treated me like his princess and told his friends not to mess with me. I was high off life. Everything was going smoothly until I noticed that he started to lose interest in me. I started to wonder if another woman was in the mix.

When I confronted him about it, he began to get very defensive and angry. I’m not sure what happened, nor did I really think he meant to do it, but I woke up with my body feeling really sore and a bruise the size of a softball on my hip. I asked myself if I remembered falling down the stairs or if I was pushed. However, I couldn’t come to a conclusion. Regardless, I still loved him and saw the best in him.

The following months were a rollercoaster of emotions. I was told by him to not talk to any of his friends nor could they talk to me. I guess he wasn’t kidding when I tried to talk to his friend, Trey. He told me that Trey had a crush on me and then he hit me in my stomach and threw me against the wall for talking to Trey. This time I tried standing up for myself saying I would leave, but when I did, he confessed his true love to me and we made up. I knew I could get him to finally change.

A few weeks went by without any fights. I thought things were looking up for us, then I found some girl’s panties pinned between his sheets. Today, I confronted him about it and he hit me again. ‘That’s it!’ I told him and ran out the door with only the clothes I had on; the ones I had brought over to spend the night with. There I was sitting at the bus stop, soaking wet from the rain.

As I waited for the bus to come, I heard a car coming down the hill, blaring music. I thought to myself that I would not let him talk me out of leaving.

“Hey baby, I’m sorry. I would never intentionally hurt you. You’re the apple of my eye. I love you. Please, just come back. You know how hard I’ve been trying.”

And just like that, I was hooked all over again. Yet this I knew that this time would be different. We drove off in the night as I watched the last Greyhound bus leaving the bus stop.

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