I got home from a weekend camping trip decided to leave him. The condo unit was oddly silent giving me a mixed sense of relief and loneliness.
I checked around the unit; I could still smell his perfume in his room, his wallet sitting on the bedside table, meaning he hasn't left long ago and he won't go far either. I packed all my bags while my friend tried to call him so we could talk to him one last time; but we couldn't reach him. We got a hold of another friend who apparently received a cryptic message from him earlier that day. His phone was then turned off.
When everything is ready to be loaded to the car, I checked every inch of the unit again hoping I'd find another hint of where he might have gone to. As I opened the door in the walk-in closet leading to the washroom, I saw him. His face; imploring me not to leave. All those times we were trying to locate him; he was just there hiding behind the bath-tub curtains. In my surprise, I let out a little shout catching the attention of our friend. He then tried to lock himself in the washroom, threatening us that he would inject himself with high dose of insulin. I tried to talk him over, as we attempt to fully open the door. I could see him almost pushing the needles to his arms… I panicked leaving our friend no choice but to call 911. The police and the paramedics came; and as much as I don't want to leave him in that situation, I had to. I am sick and tired of all the drama. The paramedic told me he's old enough to handle himself and I wouldn't be held liable should anything happen to him. They brought him to a psychiatrist after we told him how he tried to kill himself. I left the building with the ambulance and police lights glaring in the background…
It took me a while to recover from all of it: the chaos, the drama, the physical and financial abuse, much more the emotional torture. At first, I didn't understand how my prince charming turned into an ugly beast. Then I thought maybe he was always a monster after all, and I just learned to mask all the red flags with a beautiful perfect image of him. I guess it happens to the best of us.
All these had occurred four years ago, and I still remember every detail of it. I used to feel pain every time it would cross my mind, not anymore. It has now become a distant yet vivid memory of a dramatic past. Where once a year, I would walk down that memory lane to remind me of how I came through a lot of struggles and moved on. It all didn't go in vain. In my fragmented past I learned what it is like to love and let go. Like a kintsugi; it became more beautiful for having been broken.