Dark Night Dark Light

Chapter 1

I take a step out of the shower. The room is filled with steam and a moist smell. I take the towel from the rack by the bathtub. I slowly rub the towel over my body. I try to make sure that I don't apply too much pressure to my battered skin. 

My body feels like it has been through the ringer. Every joint on my body aches in pain. My face feels like I have been in the ring for a few rounds with Mike Tyson. I drop the towel to the floor after all of the beads of water are wiped off of my skin. 

I walk to the bathroom sink and rub my hand over the fogged up mirror that sits above the sink. As I run my hand across the slick surface, I start to see a blurred distorted reflection. As part of the image starts to become clearer. I see my face. I almost fall back in horror at what it has become. My bottom lip is busted on the right side, my long flowing dark brown hair is now in tangles, and there is a bruise on my cheek bone on the left side of my face.

As I continue running my hand across, removing the moisture condensation that has built up. I begin to see more little by little. I see the hand prints around my neck. I see cuts on my arms. 

I look away. I can't take it anymore. I look like a monster. My eyes fill with tears and I rapidly lift my hands up to cover my face. To hide the hideousness that I have become. I let out a long sob. I wonder if this is how life will be. I wonder if he will ever grow out of his anger. I wonder if I will ever be happy. But most of all I wonder what I am going to do to try to keep him from hitting me again tonight.

I jump out of my thoughts and physically jump back when I hear his fist beating at the bathroom door. My mind races as I wonder how I am going to get out of receiving another beating from him.  

"You have 10 minutes to get the fuck out of the bathroom before I really get fucking pissed." I hear him yell.

I scramble as fast as I can to get dressed. After I put on my thrift store tattered clothes I run out of the bathroom. I run to the bedroom and shut the door. I collapse on the bed and cry. I don't think that I will ever be able to take this any more. I don't know, but I don't think this is how a normal relationship should work. But what do I know about a normal relationship anyways?

Looking back on my childhood I can remember my uncle hitting my aunt. He was always real quick to fly off of the handle with anyone and everyone. He was a drunk and when he had been drinking he would get real mad at the smallest things. If he was mad my sister and I would try to stay out of his way. For the most part that would work. But we weren't always lucky.

I hear my bedroom door open. For a moment it was silent, I started to hear the sound of footsteps walking closer to me. I begin to try to prepare my body for any other physical assault. I lay there as quite as I can. Wondering what he might do to me now. 

Like a thunder crack, I hear the sound of him punching my back. I struggle to breathe, he has punched the air out of me. I gently start to move on the bed, trying to breathe. I can hear him laugh behind me. Laughing at my pain. I feel the stricken spot on my back take on heat. My eyes begin to tear a little, but I force the tears back so that I don't give him what he wants to see.

As the pain begins to dwell down and I regain steady breathing, I am stunned with another lash on my thigh. I quickly put my hand over the newly assaulted spot on my body. Shielding it from any further pain. It feels like he has cracked a whip on my thigh. I roll off of the bed and on to the floor to try to keep away from any other attacks.

I begin to pick myself up and off the ground. My injured body protesting against any movement. I look over the bed at him. I see he is standing on the floor, across the bed. His dirty blonde hair unkempt, his once pale face now red and fueled with fury, his clothes tattered and torn, and his green eyes burning holes right through me; willing me to die. I look at his hands and see that he has a cord in his right hand. I now know that is what he hit me with.