i'll never forget

last week at my writing class one of our prompts was to use the sentence "i'll never forget" or the sentence "i'll remember" whenever we wanted or we got stuck. it produced a lot of dark pieces. here's mine:

i'll never forget her distance eyes after the third glass, always after the third glass. in happier times the green in her irises would tint a bit gray, she'd smile and look at nothing in particular. it was only later that i learned the distance eyes prefaced the breakdown.

i'll never forget that first time she hit me. a beast came back from her distant eyes and her nails ripped out some of my arm, a scar there now. i love her, still, though she's gone.

i'll never forget how it ended. did i give up, or did she? i always rationalized her drinking and violence as addiction, impulse. she would tell me about her lack of self-control, how she couldn't help herself.

did i become cynical? her hand reaching for a glass -- is that impulse? pouring the too full drink, bringing it to her mouth, repeating not once, not twice but three too full glasses -- is that impulse? that would all take minutes, not seconds -- seconds are impulses, minutes are conscious decisions.

i'll never forget when i told her that she was weak and uncaring -- not sick and in need of help. she had just hit me. was my outburst an impulse? i remember saying sorry, saying i had lost control -- how disgusted i was with myself. i wasn't sorry, it was conscious.

and now i sit here disgusted with that memory -- that i would not stand up for myself, nor care for her or believe that she needed it.

i'll never forget her distant eyes after the third glass. i'm so broken -- i love her and love myself and these will never fit.