I'll have to lie. I'll have to lie, even though I know you won't believe me. You'll love that, won't you? Knowing he hasn't stuck by me. If he had stuck by, then I wouldn't have had to call you. Call you to come collect me, as I stand in the parking lot, bundled up but not enough to keep out the chill of California winter winds. I didn't want to call you, but the nurses insisted. There was no way to treat me at the health center. There was too much blood. I would need to get to a hospital right away. There was too much blood, and they wouldn't let me drive myself. That's why I had to call you. That's why I have to lie.
I dread your arrival. Waiting that 40 minutes as you make the same drive I made this morning from our palatious, hellacious house on the hill to this institute of higher learning. I thought going away to college would free me from your grip. But it hasn't. Instead, you only cling tighter. Invade my privacy more tenaciously. I can't lie about the bleeding, but I'm going to lie with all that's within me and say, ad nauseum if I have to, that he loves me and that he's sticking by me. That's what I'm going to say and that's what I'm going to believe, no matter with how much disdain you look at me, no matter how you humiliate me, no matter how you take my story apart to demean me. I'm going to lie.
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