The Truth Behind

I

The crash of his bottle of scotch echoed throughout the house.

"Well, what'd you do that for?" He looks up at me from the kitchen table, throwing his arms about.

I walked over to him and pointed my finger at his face. I could smell the alcohol radiating from his mouth.

"Did you never think I'd find out?!" I yelled, full of anger and hurt. He abruptly stood up from where he was sitting and turned himself towards me.

"Find out about what, darling?" He waved his hand in my face and then scratched his head, as if to act confused. He started wandering around the kitchen, stopping at the cabinet to search for more alcohol. He reaches for the endless amounts of scotch he's collected over time. I prance over to him in a whirlwind of anger. I grab the wrist that is reached out searching through the cabinet and yank it, causing him to turn towards me.

"Don't you turn away from me while I'm talking to you!" Without looking, he grabs a bottle of scotch from the cabinet and takes a big swig.

"I'm sorry, darling. You smashed my drink so I got another." He took another swig and then set down the bottle.

"How dare you throw your life away for bottles of scotch and that slut. You're nothing but a worthless pig!" I scream, my face flustered.

Without hesitation, he pulls his arm back and swings at my face, leaving a bright red mark across my cheek. I fall to the floor in pain. As he stumbles out of the kitchen he turns back and says, "Why don't you put yourself to use and cook me dinner, darling. God knows that's all you're good for."