Damaged Animal

“You are a damaged animal. You are broken. You are ruined. There is no hope for you.”

She heard those words in a low snarl, standing in a convenience store off a highway somewhere between Breckenridge and Denver. It was late at night. She had followed him into the store, full of desperation to find a way to settle the acid that had been in her belly for hours and they had been making the drive to Denver. His best friend and girlfriend were in the car, so her presence was in hopes of finding a moment of privacy to plead for relief and some semblance of striking peace.

Yet instead, there he was, hurling the worst words that had been delivered to her in her whole life. In that moment, she felt herself hovering a little above and outside of it, noticing the way the florescent industrial lighting hit the rows of snacks, both illuminating the space in stark cool tones, and casting dark shadows in equal measure.

It was such a basic place, appropriate for the banalness of the moment. What a contrast to the places around the world they had just come from. Watching the sunset in Flores, riding a motorcycle in Vietnam, skiing in Japan, eating in Mexico City.

Yet there they were. She was raging, following him into the store to have a moment to confront him about his subtle mean behavior. It has been building for some time, and the urge to speak her mind exploded from her lips. Before she got past the second sentence, he turned with dark eyes, uttering those words, "damaged animal. beyond repair." And then some. Her mind went blank and she was overcome with humiliation and rage. Her hand reached out and delivered a slap across his face, shocking both of them. At the same time, he smirked in satisfaction. He had finally done it. His verbal and emotional abuse had finally resulted in some type of "proof" that she was the one in the wrong. He had a receipt. Now, he had the goods to burn her to the ground.