I held my cheek and looked up at him, poorly with a helpless glare in my eyes. He stared at me...in anger..in disgust...and in frustration. I could feel a slight bruise on my face, it stung. I wanted to cry.
But I couldn't.
It happened too often, when he would hit me. It happened a lot more now and I could take it. It's hard to leave him, even though I know he'll hit me even more if I stay, it's still hard to walk out the door.
Why? Because he's bigger than me, he's tougher and stronger than me, and each time I try to walk out that door he doesn't let me, and he beats me up even harder. I'm his tool. He beats me because it makes him feel stronger and better, it's his fuel to see me cry and hurt.
Now, I don't cry, just hurt.
He bends down and he is looking me in my eyes as I am crouched on my knees. His shivering cold eyes look at me, my skin turned white, he knew I was scared of him and he liked it.
“You're a fucking disgusting cunt, you know that!?” I jump slightly as my hand slowly slides off my cheek.
I don't wanna cry, in fact I'm not going to.
I gasp quietly as I look at the ground with clinched teeth. I shake a little, because I'm weak. All my bones are bruised because of him, and I'm scared he's gonna hit me harder this time. But then, he slowly gets up and with that same angry/disappointed face, and he trots off to the room.
I try my best to stand on my weak knees, I try my best to walk to the door.
With a shaky palm, I manage to twist the doorknob and open it. I step off the porch, I realize it's freezing cold. Unfortunately, I don't have the keys to drive his car.
So I run, that's if my legs don't give up on me because they're so sore.
Here I am, running upon another cold night.
