True To Life Meanderings Of A Tortured Soul (Part 3)
Sometime in between:
Somewhere else in the world
A bit north of where it all began
I lie awake on the couch
Reading a book
My only escape from my present reality
Although I have been doing more
Thinking than reading
Wondering how to break the news
I am so frightened of what he will say
Of what he will do
When he learns that I am
In a family way
I hear his car coming up the driveway
The door slams and he is here
I hear him rummaging in the fridge
Looking for what is not there
He curses loudly and drunkenly
Why did I stay up?
I should have gone to bed hours ago
But my mind wouldn't let me
He comes in from the kitchen
Staggering a bit
Grabs my book and tosses it aside
And slaps me in the face
Hard
And asks me why the hell I didn't remind him
To pick up beer while he was out?
I try to say that I did, but he slaps me again
I cower on the couch
Trying to make myself small
But he grabs me and pulls me up
To my feet
And he smiles
His 'I guess I have to teach the
Stupid little whore a lesson' smile
His hands are on my arms
Fingers digging into the flesh
And he is yelling into my face
From mere inches away
I cringe back from him but
He holds me tightly
Sneering at my attempts
At reasoning with him
It didn't used to be this bad
Only an occasional beating when
I didn't do something the way he wanted
Or didn't treat his friends the way
He thought they should be treated
But lately, it has gotten very bad
very bad indeed
As if the burnings weren't bad enough
Now he has started beating me severely
Two cracked ribs just last month
And the bruises?
But I hope that he will see my point tonight
Because I have something very important to tell him
Instead he holds me by the arms
Grinning at me now
Suddenly his booted foot comes down
Upon my bare one
Agony shoots up my leg
Then again he stomps
And again
I crumple and would fall but for
The hold he has upon my arms
He stomps again and I feel something let go
There is blood on the carpet
And something else
I can't figure out what it is
It doesn't matter now because
He is not holding me anymore
He is hitting me in the chest
In the side
In the stomach
No! You can't hit me there!
You don't understand
I try to speak but I have no breath
I am collapsing to the floor
And he kicks me in the side
Cursing all the while
At my stupidity
He should have let me sit in that cell
Instead of giving me a home
Stupid fucking whore!
He is kicking me all over now
And I curl up into a fetal position
Much like the tiny bit of life within me
Will someday be
(If he lets it live)
The kicking continues for I don't know how long
I have never known so much pain
I keep my arms across my stomach
In some attempt at protection
And it goes on...
Some time later
The house is quiet and dark
I can hear him snoring in the bedroom
I try to stand up, but I cannot
The pain is too great
My whole body seems to be a large bruise
I begin to crawl towards the bedroom
And I see something on the floor
In the middle of a blood stain
I wonder at what it could be
I stare at it for what seems like an hour
Without comprehending
I reach out a trembling hand
Fighting back tears at the pain in my side
And I pick it up and bring it in front of my
Out of focus eyes and I stare
And a sob escapes me as I realize
That what I hold in my hand is
The little toe from my left foot
The one he was stomping on
Dropping the small bit of
My own flesh in horror
I crawl down the hall
To the bedroom
He is snoring loudly and muttering occasionally
I pull the closet door open and use it
To support myself as I pull myself erect
My back protests the motion
Sending great waves of pain
That make me want to puke
I grab what I can from the closet and
Stumble to the dresser
I open the drawer and
Frantically grasp a handful of clothing articles
Not even caring much what they are
Then I move slowly and cautiously down the hall
I find a trash bag in the kitchen and stuff my armload into it
My brain seems so foggy and there is a buzzing in my ears
Shoes! I need my shoes!
I think I left them by the couch where I had been lying
Not so long ago
Trying to determine how to tell a man
That he is going to be a father
No need of that now
I will be gone or dead by morning
I am not sure which
Something within me is voting for dead
But I go on anyway, searching for my shoes
I find one, the left one
And try to put it on
But I have forgotten about the toe
And I have to bite back a scream as
The still bleeding area comes in contact with
The side of the shoe
I breathe deeply and try to control my shaking
I look at my foot and see that it is still bleeding
I hobble out to the kitchen again
Wincing with every step, every movement
Until I find the drawer that holds
The dishtowels and wash cloths
I take a cloth and return, slowly
To the couch
I wrap my foot in the cloth
wadding the area around my departed little toe
Taking a deep breath, I shove my foot into the shoe
Then I lie back on the couch for a minute or so
To recover from the pain
Well, that is good, I have one shoe on
But I can't find the other one
I search frantically around the couch but
Find nothing
So I pick up my bag and start for the door
I need to get out before I pass out again
As I approach the door he yells something
From the bedroom
I freeze in a panic
Left hand clutching my pitiful bag of possessions
Right hand halfway to the doorknob
And in my mind I see
An unmarked grave in the woods
And a man standing over it with a dirt covered shovel
And a satisfied smirk on his face
And that is when I see my other shoe
Under the TV stand to the right of the door
It must have gotten kicked over there
Earlier
I can't bring myself to admit that he was trying to kill me
And I wonder if he was just a little less drunk
If I would be able to even walk on my own
Grimacing at the pain I bend down and pick up
The missing shoe and return to the door
He is snoring again
I clumsily slip the shoe on my undamaged foot
Turn the knob
And walk out into the night
Grants Pass, OR 1996
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