(Strong language ahead)
The whole idea of being able to see my friend Lauren, whom I haven't had communications with for about a year, seemed so amazing that I couldn't wipe a smile off my face for the whole day. The whole hurtful incident with Shawn meant nothing until I realized that tomorrow he's off from work and I have no idea how I'm going to get past him.
I've learned to accept the fact that he's no longer approachable, and that I shouldn't let him hold me and lie to me by making me believe he has a soft side. This is what I have to live with and there's nothing better, all of it is slowly training me to be a better person, but nothing will stop the terror that runs through my veins when he's about to hit me.
Quickly pacing our living room, I take constant glances at the clock, knowing he should be home in minutes. Nine out of ten times he comes stumbling through the door, from being dropped off by a taxi, and it's my job to try to make him comfortable.
"another beer?"
I cringe at the question I ask that feeds his disgusting habit, and makes me so painfully submissive, to the point where I'm practically some maid that gets used and thrown around to his pleasing.
As I try to think of ways I could offer to make him more happy, I also try and cluster enough words to have him give me permission to leave. God only knows what he might do if I just left, he'd be raging and no one ever wants to come home to that.
"I haven't seen her in forever..."
or better yet,
"I won't tell her anything."
And I wouldn't.
She doesn't need to know about all that goes on with my relationship, and my lost child, and all the money I've spent on buying new decor that has been broken from previous fights, and having to spend the money I can find to buy good enough concealer to cover up bruises that he was so very determined to make on my skin.
She doesn't have to know.
My breathing increases with worry and the anticipation of his answer. This can go so many different ways it's hard to be ready for something like this. To say that I'm not getting my hopes up is a lie, I believe he'll be reasonable enough to just let me see her.
Right before I was about to start cleaning something, to keep busy, I hear the heavy door to our house open, and clunk closed. The aggression just by the entrance is already a sure sign that he went to his favorite bar.
God why would I think he was going to do anything different?
"Shawn?" I politely call out, as sweetly and innocently as possible, taking a risk in not being able to see him, a wall being the obstruction in my vision.
"Did you make dinner?" The slur of his voice and the anger makes my blood run cold, me already expecting the worst.
"I cooked earlier, I put your food in the microwave, but uh I have something to ask you." He turns the corner, with a displeased look on his face, and bloodshot eyes. His hair fluffed from the winter winds of outside.
"You didn't have the fucking decency to give me something fresh?" With a pissed off huff he sits down on the sofa, running a hand through his hair and plopping his suitcase down carelessly on the floor.
"I'm sorry, you weren't home when your work usually ends." I don't dare to make eye contact so I just stare at the floor like some scared little girl, who's too afraid to face the world.
The scent of alcohol is drenching my nostrils, Shawn is practically a walking bottle of rum, just ruining anything slightly pleasant, Intoxicating anything sweet.
"Jesus Christ, whatever, just tell me what you wanted to say." His head drunkenly and lazily lulls back, but he quickly puts it back up again to try and make it look as if he's being alert.
My heart beat quickens to a pace that I didn't even know was possible, I'm not ready for what he might say but I know I need to run this idea by him.
"Me and Lauren wanted to get together at her place to catch up, it would be at 2 o'clock tomorrow and I'm wondering if that's okay with you."
Halfway through what I was saying, I see his eyes grow darker, so dark they could be black, but I know they're just clouded with intense anger.
"How the fuck did you get in contact with her?" Shawn leans forward from leaning back into the cushions, staring me down with pure and utter disgust.
"She-" my hands begin to sweat, because admitting to answering the phone would be breaking one of his rules and I know how this will end, "she called."
"I TOLD YOU NOT TO ANSWER THE DAMN PHONE ADISON," he stands up and makes his way towards me quickly, shawns volume of his voice is so loud it hurts to listen.
"I'M SORRY," I back away in a hurry, and decide to go around him, but as I'm making my way to the kitchen one of our picture frames come hurling behind me, and smashing into a million pieces in front of me on the floor.
Crying I stop in my tracks, knowing I can't run from this and just turn around to see my raging abuser.
Two firm grips on my shoulders slam me into a wall, and before I can even squirm, he punches.
"YOU WANTED TO TELL HER WHAT I FUCKING DO TO MAKE YOU LEARN?"
Punch.
"GET OFF ME," I've never cried and screamed so loud in my life, hoping the neighbors can hear me.
"YOU CAN'T GET RID OF ME BITCH."
Punch.
My wrists are pinned to the side of the walls, so desperately trying to move, while he beats me to no end.
Minutes could've gone by, or maybe hours, but it was all the same, screaming and hitting and remarkable damage to me.
And when he finally dropped me to the floor, our doorbell went off, and I swear you would've thought the world ended.
________________________________________~yikes
~LEAH
