CHILD OF PURE HATRED
Chapter One - Escaping Death
She watched him from her place on the stairs, the place where she sat every Friday night. Her hands were clasped around the cheap plastic balustrades like a small child. There he sat, slumped on the brown sofa, feet on the cardboard box posing as a coffee table. Occasional shouts and grunts came from his mouth while only the soft gentle breathing came from her own. She barely blinked as she watched him intensely, watched him as he pushed his fingers through his knotted brown hair, watched him as he massaged his unshaven chin. At these times she hated him, hated him for being so unkempt and scruffy, hated him for being so perfect. The bruise on her left cheek throbbed as she caressed it to see if the swelling had gone down, it hadn't.
"Oh, you bastards, you fucking bastards!" He shouted.
She sucked in breath harshly, eyes widening, his team were losing and that only meant one thing, she was in for another rough night. If that damn baseball team lost, her face was going to be a wonderful shade of blue tomorrow morning, maybe a touch of green if she was lucky. Night after night, week after week she continued to let him near her and touch her even though her head screamed no. Eight years they had been together, eight long hurtful years. Her mother had disowned her because she could no longer cope with seeing her daughter black and blue. Her father, dead for three years now, had suffered a brain haemorrhage after her man, the man she loved, the man she called her husband had pushed him down three flights of stairs. The man she knew as Edward had killed her father yet she was still with him. The man who had forced her to lose all contact with her family, all her sense of reality, still held such a powerful hold over her emotions.
"Rebecca! Becca! Get you're ass down here now. Rebecca!" Edward yelled at the top of his voice.
The words 'commercial break' flashed through her mind like the blazing neon signs in Las Vegas . She silently rose off her spot on the stairs and walked slowly into the living room. His head jolted round at amazing speed, she lowered hers. She began to prepare herself mentally and physically
"Hey girl, don't just fucking stand there, come bloody closer." He commanded.
She moved a few steps closer, her hands started to shake, her heart was drumming in her chest, louder, louder, louder. He pulled himself up off the sofa. She took a deep breath. His fist came flying through the air like a rocket, it slammed into her face, knocking her backwards. He laughed as Rebecca fell into the doorway, smashing the previously unharmed side of her face against the woodwork. A scream escaped from her dry mouth and down came the next blow. His foot sliced through the hot, stuffy atmosphere in the room. It collided with her stomach. A short breath was released and then she collapsed to the floor while Edward simply sat back down and placed his feet back onto the box. The game was starting again.
She woke slowly, her body aching all over. Her eyes lowered themselves to look down at herself. What she saw was definitely not what she expected. A hospital, she was in a hospital and she was safe perhaps. Questions raced through her mind, how did she get here? What had he done this time? Where is he? A face appeared at the door, no not him thank god, a nurse.
"Hi, how are you doing?" This nurse said, her smile reaching the corners of her eyes. Rebecca tried to answer but her mouth was too dry so all she could manage was a croak.
"Don't try to speak honey. Save your energy, ok. I do have some bad news for you though."
Rebecca raised her eyes to meet the nurse's. What was she on about? Was he dead, could he be dead? Had she killed him?
"I'm afraid, we were unable to save your baby. Its ok, we will help you get through this, we can offer you therapy if you like." The nurse said, sounding falsely sympathetic and mechanical.
How many times has she said this? Rebecca waved her hand at the nurse, motioning her to leave, her eyes began to swell with tears of surprise and anger. The baby, there was no baby as far as she knew. Could it be from that night? That night had been a big mistake, a one night stand with some oddball from the bar downtown. Yet could a child have been made from that night, from that tall man with the white hair and the huge knife by his side, that was no knife, it was a bloody great sword.
"Rebecca, you slut! Rebecca where the fuck are you?" His voice echoed through the halls. Edward was coming for her, coming to finish her off.
A shadow flew past her on her left, that same feeling rushed through her. A feeling of security, hope, love, the feeling from that beautiful night. Edward stormed into the room, fists punching at the air.
"You were bloody pregnant, you bitch. It weren't mine was it and don't fucking lie, you fucking know it ain't." He bellowed into her swollen face.
"It wasn't yours." She whispered.
"I bloody know that whore. Do you know why it weren't mine? Eh?"
"Because you're infer…" She cowered back against the mountain of pillows behind her. Yet strength bubbled in her body, building itself up for a mighty eruption.
"Because you're bloody infertile, unable to make fucking babies! You're inadequate, you're a failure, you're a fucking loser! That's fucking why, ok!" She screamed back into his face.
Power poured through her veins, pulsed around the same meandering course as her blood. She was strong, she could beat him, some force was with her, helping her. Edward stepped back, skin pale and eyes wide. She could hear voices approaching. He suddenly charged out of the room and disappeared down the pale green hallway.
That shadow she had felt earlier now stood before her, head cocked to one side, arms wrapped around something wound up in blankets. Her heartbeat quickened, it was him, he had returned. A tiny cry came from within the blankets, the cry of a baby.
"He's not dead." Growled the shadow. He stepped up to Rebecca's bedside, he placed his large hand upon her forehead and gently swept away her soft chestnut hair. He then grabbed her hand and slowly pulled her up to a sitting position. She winced but forced herself to continue. She swung her legs out from under the covers and over the side of the bed. She ripped out the tubes and the needles. He helped her to stand then handed her the fragile bundle. She took it, no question, it was her own child, something she thought she would never have. In one swift movement, he swept her off her feet and into his arms. With both precious beings in his grasp, he walked towards the third story window and simply leapt out like a creature of the night.
Chapter One - Escaping Death
She watched him from her place on the stairs, the place where she sat every Friday night. Her hands were clasped around the cheap plastic balustrades like a small child. There he sat, slumped on the brown sofa, feet on the cardboard box posing as a coffee table. Occasional shouts and grunts came from his mouth while only the soft gentle breathing came from her own. She barely blinked as she watched him intensely, watched him as he pushed his fingers through his knotted brown hair, watched him as he massaged his unshaven chin. At these times she hated him, hated him for being so unkempt and scruffy, hated him for being so perfect. The bruise on her left cheek throbbed as she caressed it to see if the swelling had gone down, it hadn't.
"Oh, you bastards, you fucking bastards!" He shouted.
She sucked in breath harshly, eyes widening, his team were losing and that only meant one thing, she was in for another rough night. If that damn baseball team lost, her face was going to be a wonderful shade of blue tomorrow morning, maybe a touch of green if she was lucky. Night after night, week after week she continued to let him near her and touch her even though her head screamed no. Eight years they had been together, eight long hurtful years. Her mother had disowned her because she could no longer cope with seeing her daughter black and blue. Her father, dead for three years now, had suffered a brain haemorrhage after her man, the man she loved, the man she called her husband had pushed him down three flights of stairs. The man she knew as Edward had killed her father yet she was still with him. The man who had forced her to lose all contact with her family, all her sense of reality, still held such a powerful hold over her emotions.
"Rebecca! Becca! Get you're ass down here now. Rebecca!" Edward yelled at the top of his voice.
The words 'commercial break' flashed through her mind like the blazing neon signs in Las Vegas . She silently rose off her spot on the stairs and walked slowly into the living room. His head jolted round at amazing speed, she lowered hers. She began to prepare herself mentally and physically
"Hey girl, don't just fucking stand there, come bloody closer." He commanded.
She moved a few steps closer, her hands started to shake, her heart was drumming in her chest, louder, louder, louder. He pulled himself up off the sofa. She took a deep breath. His fist came flying through the air like a rocket, it slammed into her face, knocking her backwards. He laughed as Rebecca fell into the doorway, smashing the previously unharmed side of her face against the woodwork. A scream escaped from her dry mouth and down came the next blow. His foot sliced through the hot, stuffy atmosphere in the room. It collided with her stomach. A short breath was released and then she collapsed to the floor while Edward simply sat back down and placed his feet back onto the box. The game was starting again.
She woke slowly, her body aching all over. Her eyes lowered themselves to look down at herself. What she saw was definitely not what she expected. A hospital, she was in a hospital and she was safe perhaps. Questions raced through her mind, how did she get here? What had he done this time? Where is he? A face appeared at the door, no not him thank god, a nurse.
"Hi, how are you doing?" This nurse said, her smile reaching the corners of her eyes. Rebecca tried to answer but her mouth was too dry so all she could manage was a croak.
"Don't try to speak honey. Save your energy, ok. I do have some bad news for you though."
Rebecca raised her eyes to meet the nurse's. What was she on about? Was he dead, could he be dead? Had she killed him?
"I'm afraid, we were unable to save your baby. Its ok, we will help you get through this, we can offer you therapy if you like." The nurse said, sounding falsely sympathetic and mechanical.
How many times has she said this? Rebecca waved her hand at the nurse, motioning her to leave, her eyes began to swell with tears of surprise and anger. The baby, there was no baby as far as she knew. Could it be from that night? That night had been a big mistake, a one night stand with some oddball from the bar downtown. Yet could a child have been made from that night, from that tall man with the white hair and the huge knife by his side, that was no knife, it was a bloody great sword.
"Rebecca, you slut! Rebecca where the fuck are you?" His voice echoed through the halls. Edward was coming for her, coming to finish her off.
A shadow flew past her on her left, that same feeling rushed through her. A feeling of security, hope, love, the feeling from that beautiful night. Edward stormed into the room, fists punching at the air.
"You were bloody pregnant, you bitch. It weren't mine was it and don't fucking lie, you fucking know it ain't." He bellowed into her swollen face.
"It wasn't yours." She whispered.
"I bloody know that whore. Do you know why it weren't mine? Eh?"
"Because you're infer…" She cowered back against the mountain of pillows behind her. Yet strength bubbled in her body, building itself up for a mighty eruption.
"Because you're bloody infertile, unable to make fucking babies! You're inadequate, you're a failure, you're a fucking loser! That's fucking why, ok!" She screamed back into his face.
Power poured through her veins, pulsed around the same meandering course as her blood. She was strong, she could beat him, some force was with her, helping her. Edward stepped back, skin pale and eyes wide. She could hear voices approaching. He suddenly charged out of the room and disappeared down the pale green hallway.
That shadow she had felt earlier now stood before her, head cocked to one side, arms wrapped around something wound up in blankets. Her heartbeat quickened, it was him, he had returned. A tiny cry came from within the blankets, the cry of a baby.
"He's not dead." Growled the shadow. He stepped up to Rebecca's bedside, he placed his large hand upon her forehead and gently swept away her soft chestnut hair. He then grabbed her hand and slowly pulled her up to a sitting position. She winced but forced herself to continue. She swung her legs out from under the covers and over the side of the bed. She ripped out the tubes and the needles. He helped her to stand then handed her the fragile bundle. She took it, no question, it was her own child, something she thought she would never have. In one swift movement, he swept her off her feet and into his arms. With both precious beings in his grasp, he walked towards the third story window and simply leapt out like a creature of the night.