SHARED HALLUCINATION

I filed charges for Domestic Violence, Assault & Battery against Richard Stanley, my then long term life & creative partner in October, 2014, after he beat the shit out of me in our car parked behind the Banque Postale in Lavelanet, France when we were returning from a film festival in London. It was not the first time he had beaten me. In fact, he beaten the shit out of me numerous times, but I finally pressed charges against him that time. I had been taken to the doctor with a badly sprained possibly broken finger, throttle marks around my throat, bruises all over my head, chest, and shoulders, and a concussion. I also had bruises on my head, chest and back that were still healing as he had attacked me at a friend’s apartment in London a few days earlier. A friend of mine in London saw the bruises and urged me to leave him.   The first time Richard hit me was after the filming of  Mother of Toads . He was convinced I had lost a couple of books of his which had been ...

Artwork by Jean Delville         I awoke to pounding at the door. Opening it a crack, I spied Stephanie standing on the porch looking  anxious. Breathing a sigh of relief, I let her in.      “Hey. You weren't answering your phone. I even tried to email you. Jesus, Anabelle,” she exclaimed,  eyeing me up and down. “Are you still wearingthe same clothes from the concert?”       “Yeah. Long story,” I replied, rubbing my eyes and stifling a yawn. “Sorry. I must have forgotten to turn  my phone on.” Glancing over to the far side of the room, I noticed it was still on the charger.      Removing her coat, she sat on the couch. Folding her hands in front of her, she announced, “we have a  problem.”      That woke me up. “What kind of problem?” I asked.      “A porno problem,” she answered. “Haiden's been busy.” “What? But how...?” My heart sank.      “He's ...

      Artwork by Jean Delville        Waking up earlier than planned, I decided to take a walk and do some unnecessary shopping. The skies  were blue and the weather was surprisingly warm for early winter. After picking up some overpriced,  blood red lipstick at a boutique, I'd found a tiny park and sat on a bench to watch a young hippy guy make  giant bubbles with soapy water. When he blew smoke into them they garnered a colorful sheen, like an oil  slick in the rain, and I cursed myself for not having brought my camera. The nice weather seemed to bring  the best out in people who smiled and said hello as they passed by with their dogs.       Deciding to wander further, I spied a new agency on the corner of an unfamiliar street. Inside, next to  the door, was a stack of the latest edition of The Reader waiting to be unbundled. The guy behind the  counter noticed me staring at them and came ov...

  Artwork by Jean Delville           My black motorcycle boots scuffed against the pavement as I rushed up the street. After tossing and  turning most of the night, I hadn't woken up early as planned. Instead, I'd hauled ass to shower and apply  war paint to make the noon appointment Lars had set. At least he'd chosen a nearby café, which was a  small blessing. Catching my reflection in a storefront window, I smiled. In my heavy, black coat, and the  black, hand-me-down dress from Stephanie that fit me to a tee, paired with black tights which hid my  scraped knees, I looked kind of old school tough. But, I didn't feel tough. No amount of fashion or war  paint would dislodge the knot of anxiety firmly embedded within my stomach.      Lars was all smiles and full of Dutch charm when he arrived with Haiden in tow. He kissed me on both  cheeks, while Haiden glowered. Without giving Haiden a second glance, I...