Apple pie covered in punches....................

At the kitchen table, holding my bruised aching head, I felt my cold legs tremble as I waited for his return. In my heart of hearts I knew the horror would eventually unfold...

It’s been too long; how long could this go on for? .... It’s time to make a change, but how? Where would I take the children? I can't do this by myself not with two children to think about... More tears fall, splashing into the empty oblivion I feel pressing in and around me. The dark hole is nearer....

The air is still but calm making the kitchen’s ticking clock much to loud, I feel an intense irritation with its presence. Another long hour, filled with too many seconds passes... I still hear him screaming... over and over again. I feel his fierce punch as he knocks me to the floor. Scowling down at me, he wears the look of a demon. I press myself into the floor as he kicks out, narrowly missing my cheek. He leaves the house shouting a barrage of abuse, which floats behind him as he slams the door.... This is the man I fell in love with.... we have two children... what’s happened?..... Oh my god what’s happened. So much to think about, I’m tired, so very tired.

I hear a noise from the front of the house... My heart catapults into overdrive, is he here? Sitting upright, holding my breath... the moment moves forward, I realise it’s not him.... falling against the table I cry as if my battered heart will break... I need a plan... They say a plan is needed under circumstances like these... a safety plan.... a code, that’s it. Thinking of a plan just caused me more confusion... I felt to tired to make plans, but his return would cause more pain... My plan for tonight was to endeavour not to make a sound; I did not want the children to wake... I would take his punishment then I would make my plan tomorrow... Yes, make a plan when you’re not tired, there is so much to think about.....

I moved to put the kettle on, maybe he wouldn’t return... sometimes he did that. I didn’t know where he went and to be honest I wasn’t bothered. Feeling a little more positive with the thought of him possibly not returning. I hoped that would mean the plan could formulate sooner rather then later.

I almost dropped the kettle of boiled water when the kitchen door flew open causing a small pane of its glass to smash into smithereens. Hastily I put down the boiled kettle just in time to see my husband stride towards me; he viciously grabbed my hair with his right hand holding my left ear close to his mouth. the words convulsed from him spraying spittle over me.

“I told you I’d be back”

Before I could respond, I was pushed with such force... I flew through the kitchen door towards the hall. I continued and ran into the lounge, I just knew I didn’t want him to take this upstairs, the children would wake. I faced him as he ran towards me; he hit me with the force of a rugby player and tackled me to the ground. The carpet felt rough against my body. He sat on me; he proceeded to belt me across the face with the look of a crazed man. Determined not to cry, I knew his resolution was to break me but unknowlingly by remaining strong I simply caused further physical abuse for myself, his rain of slaps and belts continued unabated... The experience for me this time felt different. I recalled thinking, this man can’t hurt me anymore he’s done enough, so much blatant damage. With each cracking slap, I struggled to hold eye contact with him... I noticed this made him look uncomfortable, I also observed the following slap was harder.

“What’s wrong with you, stupid woman?”

By looking further and deeper into his once beautiful eyes, I saw a glimmer of uncertainty. I felt elated at the thought, this man is history. I tasted blood in my mouth as I whispered these words,

“I’m done with you and I am leaving”

I tried to get up from the floor when in a flash, I felt the horrendous force from a punch to my head. In the grey light before black, I knew I had been knocked out.