3 am

It's 3:47 in the morning and I'm still looking at the void, there's nothing in front of me, in fact I look inside myself, looking for an exact moment.Blood drips on the floor but the wounds don't hurt, or maybe they do but I can't feel it since my mind is elsewhere.Maybe I need some points here.Maybe I should clean this up.Maybe I should have stayed at home.Maybe I should have been quiet.Perhaps.There is no middle ground, things are or are not.There is no turning back with the words spoken or the slap given.I'm sure he loved me,It was so lovingBut why did you yell at me when we were alone?Why did it hurt my face when I spilled the coffee?I think my arm started to hurt now.What did I do so wrong that he got so angry?This house was full of loveBut at some point the good feeling was dyingOnly loneliness and fear remained.What time does he come back?I hope to do everything right.But is it really my fault?I don't have time to think that kind of thing.Today the baby cried at dawnI saw him look at him the way he looks at me when I spill the coffeeBut our son is so innocent and fragile,He raised his hand when he was in front of the crib,He will do what I think he will,But no, this timeI push it,He drops the crib and the baby is under the sheetsThe baby criesHe cries because he's afraid, he cries because he doesn't accept thatHe cries because he wants to live,He cries because he is alive.I get hit hard in the face and fall face down in the room,I try to get up but a kick makes me hit my back against the wall,He's looking for something, I think it's the pants.The baby cries.The belt,He's going to hit my son when he's done with me.Taking me and running to the kitchen,He pulls my hair and throws me in front of the sink,Dishes and spices on the floor,The baby cries.He gives up on his belt and holds my neck,He's going to hit my son when he's done with me.The baby cries.I need to breathe, but your hands on my neck make my coincidence falter,My right arm is cut and bleeding,I struggle fiercely, trying to pull in some air,The baby cries,My face is hot and my eyes are burning,My language seems bigger,My whole life passes before my eyes,Good and bad decisions,Memories from several decades and recent memories,As we met and the birth of our child,I remember exactly everything that ever happened in my life,And in that moment I realize that I know why I cut my arm,I fell for the dinner silverware,I try to get something to defend myself,And in that moment I see your vein pulsing in your neck,He looks at me incredulouslyAnd suddenlyI am free,I'm free from your handsNow I can breatheI'm free of punches when I spill coffee,I'm free to be called the worst names,I am free from fear and loneliness.Nothing hurts me anymore,Today I took a life,But it was a necessity,You would extend it if you were in my place,I killed him tonight, he killed me several years ago.But there is good news despite all this:The baby still cries.