"Where were you?" He asked as I put my keys on the kitchen table. I didn't answer. "Where... were... you!?" This time, he shouted. The house is dark, like always. His silhouette slowly walks from the dark hallway.
I stutter a little. "I... I was out with some friends." He can detect the fear in my voice, just like an animal. I should have said I had to work late.
"Did you ask me for permission?" Hands folded across his chest. I can see how tense he is.
I look down, too scared to look in his eyes, because I know what's coming next. "No. I'm sor-"
Thud! My body hits the floor. The pain tackles me, as if I was a football at the Super Bowl. A tear rolls down my face. Holding in the cry because I know he would hit me more. I try to talk.
"Please! Please stop! It was just me and two friends... no guys... we just went out to eat." A pause after every couple of words. The same words I say every time he hits me.
"SHUT UP!!! I didn't say you could talk, or go out!" The tone of his voice hurts me more. "You live in my house, you live by my rules!!"
"I'm so-" I try to say a couple of words. Words he doesn't want to hear.
"SHUT UP!!"
I give up. The more I talk, the more I get hit. The more he hates me, the more I hate me. I move my hands from in front of my eyes as I lay coiled up on the floor. I see a little smile on his face. A smile that says, I have all control, and you can't do anything about it.
It's true. I'm like his little voodoo doll and his hands are the needles. I put my hands back over my face, hiding from the cruel truth and pain.
A sudden silence is in the room. No more of his fists hitting me. Even though it stopped, I can still hear it. Thump. Thump. I hear his last words as he pulls me up against the wall.
"Don't let this happen again." When he let go, I stumbled. I take a deep breath. A little bit of blood runs down my face. But it's nothing different. Just the same thing that happens everyday.
I go to the bathroom and look in the mirror. I look disgusting, torn apart. Black eye, lumped lip. I deserved it. Stupid me, I never listen.
As I walk back to kitchen, I see his silhouette by the bedroom door. Nothing but the dim light of our small T.V. behind him.
"I'm sorry." He says. I just stand there, scared and lifeless.
I continue walking but i know he's still standing there. A tear rolls down my face again, hitting a little cut on my face. A question replays in my head ;
Can someone love and abuse you at the same time? I don't know. Maybe this is normal, but I do know i'm not a good wife and I don't deserve him.
I sit down on the chair by the table. A table that's always empty. Empty because he doesn't like to see my face while he eats. He told me so himself. I disgust him, and myself.
I hear his heavy footsteps as he walks into the kitchen. They sound like a construction worker walking on a plank. He picks me up off the chair cradling me a if i was a new born baby. Gently setting me down on his lap. I lay my head on his chest. The sound of his heartbeat makes me cry even more. He squeezes me tight.
"I didn't mean to hurt you. I didn't mean to. I didn't mean to." He repeats it like a record that's been scratched.
I want to say I know, but the words get stuck in my throat. Tears just keep rolling down my face.
Those two words keep running through my mind as i start to fall asleep in his arms that are still cradling me, I know.