The pronouncement was made and there was much anger and yelling and screaming, but strangely, no tears. There were no tears. Seldom were there any tears. The dish rack in the kitchen was wiped from the counter, shattering to the floor. Always, something had to be broken.

Hearts were pounding, all of them. One for loss, one for freedom. Two more for the uncomfortable familiarity.

It was not much different than any of the other times. She managed the distance between them, not fearful, but vigilant. This time there would be no backing down. This time, when the words came out, she would not take them back.

If he lunged at her, if he closed the space between them, spitting familiar words in her face, she would not back away. She would not look away. She would meet his eyes.

No more. No more name calling. No more criticisms. No more destroying personal property, space, private journals. No more threats. No more physical threats. No more empty apologies. No more gaslighting. No more.

In a tumultuous life and the changes it brought, accusations flew. False accusations. A pot, calling the kettle black. Misdeeds and affairs of the past denied, but known. Promises to change, promises to commit to things promised long before and long ignored. Threats to destroy. Demands to end friendships.

Soon after, she refocused her efforts on the time ahead. What must be done. How to accomplish it.

Interference from an outside, and separately invested source, compelled her to withdraw from much-needed support. And what followed next – a song. A song, shared to Facebook, meant to express disappointment, sorrow, frustration – cut her to the core. Fade to Black.

An inconceivable ache in the soul, opened an old wound long ago healed. The tears flowed freely. Another kind of loss flooded back to her, one healed but never forgotten. A loss not wanting to be felt again.

So much to be done. No easy way out, but a way out – the only way now.