"did he hurt you?"

the words echo in this small room with dull white walls that make me feel as if i'm sinking into oblivion. this place makes me want to scream, but my throat feels empty and i don't have any energy left inside of me. i stare blankly at the doctor, who repeats the question for the fourth time, waiting for my response.

did he hurt you?

my mind races through a thousand piercing thoughts, and i struggle to find the right words to say.

did he hurt you?

hurt? yes. damage? yes. destroy? yes.

did he hurt you?

i don't even remember the last time i wasn't in pain.

did he hurt you?

mentally? i feel as if my mind and my heart are completely corrupted voids of emptiness. a blackened, flawed soul; i am nothing more than a retired warrior who has surrendered in a war she can't win.

did he hurt you?

physically? i've lost track of the bruises on my skin. what used to be the touch of your love has become the touch of your fury; what used to be skin that shivered with thrill has become skin that shivers with fear.

did he hurt you?

i take a deep breath and remain silent, scanning the room as i think of an answer. i look over at you, and your stormy aphotic eyes bore into mine. your lips are set in a firm line and your face is completely unreadable. thousands of wrinkles of tensity color your skin and your jaw is clenched in apprehension. there is no mercy in your expression, and i think i might die just by looking at you.

why i still love you, i don't know. why you still love me, i don't know. do you even love me anymore? probably not. i think we're at the point where we've mistaken hatred for love; where we've mistaken obsession for love; where we've mistaken the need to have control over each other as love.

we shouldn't even be here, in this awful, stupid room. in this place where people claim to heal you, even when there isn't a cure for your disease. i know that neither you nor me can be remedied by the empty promises or fake elixirs provided by the "certified healthcare professionals," because we are both infected by a virus that cannot be fixed.

i inhale a large gasp of air one last time, finally deciding on my answer.

tears roll down my cheek and i turn my gaze back to the doctor, and she asks the question one last time.

"did he hurt you?"

i struggle to find my voice as i reply, "no."