Free to Indulge

I remember thinking, "I'm not safe in this car." But I also didn't want to go inside. The car was warm and the radio was playing. Outside was cold, dark, scary, lonely.
I sat at the corner of Baring Street, mad that he left me out there.
I was more mad that we were there at all.
I was more mad that I couldn't change this situation.

The street lights were tall, making circles on the sidewalks, with darkness in between and all around.
He came running outside to the window and told me to turn off the car and come inside.
I turned off the car,
I locked the car,
I walked with him in my pajamas,
I went inside.

The door was dirty. Inside was dirty and dark. Piles of broken furniture lined the living room walls. The carpet looked old. Everything was broken and horrible. I walked up the stairs, gripping his hand, hating this place.
I followed him past a door with shards of wood falling from the frame. Not stopping, I asked what was in there.
Who lived in that room?
A pitbull.
The pitbull was high.
The pitbull broke the door.

We walked to another room. There were two gius watchinmg a movie sitting on the floor in the dark. A fishtank glowed across the room, dingy and dry.
There was no where to sit. I was afraid to touch the floor or lean on the walls, stained and streaked with violence and dogs and drugs. The man smelled. He wore a big shirt to cover his big belly. It was dark, he was dark. I didn't want to see him, hear him or smell him.