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Domestic Abuse Can Happen in Lockdown Too
A cautionary tale of being in isolation with an abusive person
I am lying on the bed it a fetal position and I can’t close my eyes — I am watching the stripe of light, the last remnant of the setting sun disappearing from the wall and without moving an inch I let myself go so cold that I start to shiver.
I hear his loud breathing from the other room and every time there is a longer pause in the steady rhythm I start to worry immediately — my heart skips a beat, just like his breathing does, we are synced and my love is laced with fear. I fear for him and I fear for myself.
I am afraid if I close my eyes time will pass quicker and he will wake up in a foul mood and I don’t want to think of what might happen. We are here, closed in this flat, in a country where I don’t know anyone and even if I thought I spoke the language I don’t understand a single word.
I am lonely and terrified — and I am longing for him.
The sun stripe disappears and dusk falls down on me through the balcony door — I want to open it but I can’t move, I don’t want to risk stirring him before it’s time.
Southern Italy in November is sunny during the day but the temperature drops quickly with the sunset — and these old houses are not for…
