Breaking the Silence

Eleven

Jack was not in a good mood that night. Thankfully, it had nothing personally to do with me. Unfortunately, if something — or someone — ticks him off at work, he comes home and takes it all out on me.

I'd made dinner — just an easy pasta dish — and set the table. He wasn't home yet, so I thought about taking a bowl for myself. The only food I ate today was an apple I'd snuck on my way out the door this morning. Making the noodles made me incredibly hungry.

Hurriedly, I grabbed a fork and as I was about to stab a sauce-covered noodle, the front door slammed open. Panicking, I threw the fork back in the drawer and cowered to the corner of the kitchen. He stomped his way in, ignoring the bowl of food on the table and trained his cold eyes on me.

I swallowed hard and looked at my sock covered feet, noticing how my toe stuck through a ratty hole.

"You know, Eirenae," he muttered, "some people just really piss me off!" I didn't even hear him close the distance before my head snapped back from the force of his fist. Sharp pain shot from the crown of my head as it hit the cabinet behind me. I steadied myself against the countertop and braced myself for the next blow.

It was the ribs. And then it was the jaw. Then the ribs again. I stopped keeping track after that. Silent tears escaped my face as he held my weight up by my ponytail. I pathetically grappled at his arms, the counter, the cabinet doors. Anything to hold myself up and release the pain in my scalp.

His voice was low, muttering things I couldn't pick up. Once in a while I'd catch the name of someone I didn't know. Work things. I was just serving as a way to get his anger out about people from work.

I didn't know how long he had me dangling in the air for. One hand was holding me up, the other was throwing punches, anywhere and everywhere. My head felt like it had tiny knives being driven into my scalp wherever my hair roots attached. I was convinced that at one point, my hair would just rip out and I'd be bald tomorrow.

The edges of my vision became blurry and I let out a shriek I was no longer able to hold back. Shocked, Jack let go and I crumbled to the hard, tiled floor. My wrist hit the countertop on the way down, making a sound I did not like.

My eyes swam in my head and I had to blink them several times in slow motion before I could even see my surroundings. Jack swiftly kicked my abdomen — one last time for good measure, I suppose — before grabbing his bowl of pasta and a fork to take to his room. Before he disappeared around the corner, he grumbled "you can eat the rest."

Funny. That was the nicest thing he'd said to me all month.

—

After my last mistake of going to school unkempt, I paused long and hard in the bathroom to focus on makeup and my outfit the following morning. I wore a sort-of-raggedy turtleneck sweater and jeans. Which were excruciating to climb into. My abdomen varied in shades of green and yellow and brown, and bending over or lifting a leg nearly made me double over.

On top of that, I was pretty sure my left wrist was at least sprained. Quite possible I broke it coming down on the countertop when he dropped me. I could barely stretch my fingers out, let alone bend my wrist.

My jaw was red, and disgustingly swollen. Covering that was difficult, but possible. Someone really paying attention might've noticed. Which, in my case, could actually be a problem. I hoped Jaycee wouldn't bombard me with questions about it.

My cheek was bruised, so I covered that up, as well as the spot just above my left eye. Good thing my injured wrist was on the left, otherwise applying makeup would be another added problem on the list today.