He Won't Go
I feel him punch me harder, like a water balloon exploding as an small child drops it from a tall building. I feel my perfect skin slowly tear and rip like blue tack. I notice the colour of my skin rapidly changing, the pale completion I once had, always wishing I'd become tanned becoming true, as my skin reaches a deep red and purple blended tone almost like someone has dyed me with autumn leaves and forgot I wasn't born this colour. I notice my fragile body now laid among the cold tiles in my kitchen with the one man I had always relied on standing above me looking down on me like I'm nothing, like an hopeless animal in a pen awaiting to be brought and treated like part of another persons family. I feel the pain, the hurt, the anger, and yet I still go through this every evening, like it was deja vu and I'm somewhat used to feeling the way I do. I see the way he looks through me, like a shadow reflecting back to him. Seeing his eyes, so still but roaring out at me, the anger reflecting inside entire room building up the tension he held against my body and the friction he caused on my bones.
"You think I'm finished yet" He'd always say, everything he said this a part of me inside screamed out, like a ghost. Hoping he'd say, "you know what I'm finished" but I always knew the right way to respond back to his questions it was an no automatic. "No".
I felt him punch my stomach, the beating of my heart began pounding more. With every blow I felt my body impact it shiver deeper. The signals inside me now reaching their breaking points. I let my tears roll down my red cheeks and keep on weeping as he began clutching his knuckles into the soft part my ribs rattling the thin strips of bone surrounding my main organs.
Exactly 3hours later. 25 Bruises more than I had the night before. He leaves me. Heading upstairs to sleep. I lay on the floor, finally feeling the peace I wished for previously, sleeping like a cat curling up in my blood and bruises scared of who to let near me in this state.
The next morning arrived soon, as Kirsty moved around on the floor, she spotted the blood beneath her head, the bruises ripening like fruit over her arms, and the sharp pain in her stomach and chest building up like fluid on her lungs. She carefully got to her feet, balancing slowly on the wooden chair. She wiped her face and cleaned her cuts almost pretending she had just not been beaten up nor touched. Sometimes in her mind she'd pray that was the case but reality had a funny way of escaping back into the centre of her mind chasing away her dreams and thoughts.
"Mummy" Nita ran towards her, wrapping her arms around her mothers waist. Kirsty clutched her hand, feeling the pain as her daughter rested her head upon her patch of bruises. "Ow" She let escape out. "What mum?" Her daughter looked shocked by her mother's response. "Oh nothing sweetie, do you want some toast aye?" She replied back, she hid her inner state from her daughter, she promised her she'd never involve her in any of this. "Go on go sit down I'll just go get changed for work then I'll make you some" she replied kissing her daughter on the head as she walked up and up the stairs about to confront her husband.