Husband Beater

Chapter One

Don't puke on the floor, I told myself strictly, if you need to puke, do it in your shirt.

One thing Jack seems to hate more than my cries and whimpers for him to stop beating me is throwing up on the floor.

He hurts me so bad sometimes that I throw up.

With one last throw into the wall, Jack let me slide to the floor and hold my head. I felt blood, like little wet kisses, dribble down the side of my head, to my chin, and down on the floor.

I felt rising bruises on my rib bones and desperately was praying to the God I didn't believe in that I didn't have another broken rib. The hospital was going to start getting suspicious about all of my injuries.

Jack vacillated his options: hit me again, or walk away. Fortunately, he decided to walk away mumbling under his breath.

It seemed every other day I was left in this corner, gasping for breath and bleeding out onto the floor. Sometimes, I was in the corner of the bathroom just finishing throwing up in the toilet and crying silently that the pain would go away.

God, I just wanted this to stop.

I knew sooner or later I was going to have to get up and clean the coruscating blood off of my face and head, and apply ice packs to my bruises so that they wouldn't swell.

If Jack had friends over tonight, I'd be screwed. I don't think I can get up and walk over to greet them without kneeling over and throwing my breakfast up.

I groaned and felt tears make their way down my cheeks and stir in with the blood before dropping to the floor in big, red splotches.

Yep, I thought again I need fucking stitches.

I didn't even realize I was crying this much until I saw the tear drops falling to the floor. Thank god we didn't have carpets.

I sniffled and held myself from crying out loud. I need to clean up and clean the floor up before Jack comes back. He'll really hurt me if I don't clean up.

I heard his footsteps begin to come down the floor and I gasped. I tried to scramble to my feet, but I was in so much pain I couldn't bring myself all the way to my feet.

When I saw Jack, I felt myself start crying more. The tears fell like a water fall down my face and onto my blood and tear soaked shirt. I was able to crouch down, with one knee on the floor and one foot planted on the ground, and look Jack in the eyes.

No matter how much he beats me, he will never take my pride.

"Come on, Lex." Jack sighed as he grabbed my arm.

I gripped his shoulder and hand as he hoisted me to my feet. I couldn't help myself, the cry in pain I've been shutting out managed to escape from my closed throat and clenched jaws.

Jack, with me using him as a crutch, aided me to the bathroom to help me clean up.

We had tons of first aid kits, obviously. And huge containers of antibiotics and pain relievers; the good stuff, like Motrin 600s.

Jack was a doctor so he was able to snag quite a few things; all of the doctors did. They had privileges.

And I guess it helped Jack was a doctor because when he broke three of my ribs puncturing into my lungs he was able to fix me up.

I sat on the toilet and gripped the wall when my vision blurred. Black and purple spots crowded my vision and a mixture of tears made it near impossible to see Jack.

All I know is when I saw him coming at me I flinched, but realized he was wiping my blood with a wet rag.

This is what he does; he knows he hurts me really bad and he tries to make up for it by cleaning me up and leaving me alone.

This bull shit doesn't cut it.

"I love you." Jack said as he dabbed the side of my head.

"I-I love you too." You fucking cunt.

Don't get me wrong, I love Jack. I really do. But not this monster kind of Jack. I like the sweet and cuddly Jack, not the truculent, abusive Jack.

Jack smiled softly and continued to dab my cut. I looked around and saw that his knuckles had bruises beginning to form on them, and he had finger prints on his neck where I tried to fight back.

Never fight back.

I've had thoughts about running away; I can hop on a train and get really far away from here before he gets back. I can room with my mate CJ over in Chicago and Jack will never think to look.

She's my internet friend, and knows I get beat. She'll hide me if it risks her life.

I've also thought about going to the police; but my problem is Jack has taken care of everyone on the force in the hospital and they'll probably cover for him.

It's sad, but true.

"I'll get you an ice pack and you can take a nap, okay? Think you'll be up to make dinner?" Jack asked as he put the last of the supplies away.

He also grabbed down a few Motrins from the bottle and put them in my hand.

We both went to the kitchen, where I grabbed a can of AriZona sweet tea and Jack got a few ice packs. Taking my pills and ice packs, I walked to our room.

My blood and tears were still smeared on the hard wood floor and on the wall a bit. Jack would probably clean it up before I got up to make dinner.

Laying down on our bed, I looked up at the ceiling and thought. When I need to think, I usually do puzzles until my thoughts are emptied out of my head. Jack bought me a whole bunch of one thousand piece glow in the dark puzzles to do.

But this time, the soft hum of the fan helped me just as well.

I need to get out of here, I thought steadily, or get Jack back.

I need to get my husband back.

Before falling asleep, I began to think of how things use to be.

I didn't have to worry about if the bed was made with no creases or if the clothes weren't folded right.

I never had to worry about if I would bleed to much or what Jack would do if I couldn't get the stain out of the wall.

And I certainly never thought about what a monster my husband has become.

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I awoke on my own, and was glad the pain in my head has gone away. I did, however, feel a warmth on my back, around my hips, and on my bum.

Jack. It was Jack sleeping next to me.

When we take naps or go to bed, Jack lays down on the opposite side with his back towards me like he's trying to be a tough guy.

Then, when he thinks I'm asleep, he cuddles me, and kisses me, and once he whispered a soft sorry.

I gently pried out of Jack's grip and walked out of the room. I didn't say anything out for dinner in advance so I have no idea what to do.

Maybe I can make French Toast?

I checked the fridge.

No eggs.

I sighed and thought again.

Spaghetti?

No tomato sauce.

I really need to go to the store. Yesterday was my store day, but yesterday was also Jack's sex day, so I was really sore.

"Let's just order a pizza."

I jumped and looked over at Jack leaning against the door frame.

"I need to go to the store soon."

Jack started the tea kettle and pulled down a mug. He nodded and pulled a plain black tea bag from the container.

So on so fourth, Jack ordered a pizza, told me the swelling is gone, and told me I look nice today.

The pizza came, we ate, and my head began to hurt again so I went to bed.

About an hour or so of not falling asleep, it got dark, and Jack went to bed too.