He beat me for the wrongs things that he had done. I wasn’t as strong
as he wanted me to be. That’s why he hated me. I flinched when he
raised his hand up in the air to slap me down to the floor. He began
kicking me, blurting out offensive hurtful words that cut me like a
knife. In my mind I said, “I’m going to die.” I cried as I lay hurled in the
corner of the closet. I begged and pleaded for him to stop.
The last blowto my head left me dizzy. I just lay still and as if I were knocked
unconscious. He walked away.
The room was filled with silence.
“Was this the end of this vicious beating or would he be back to finish the job?”
I asked myself. I slowlygot up from the floor, and it was soaked from my tears.
I walked into my bedroom, dazed, in shock and amazement.
“What the hell just happened?”
" What had I done to trigger this outburst of anger and abuse?"
I sat on the edge of the bed. My hands trembled. Fear took over.
I was crying hysterically. My body ached all over. I moaned quietly.
I was losing my mind. I rocked back and forth trying to convince
myself that although the bruises on my body would soon diminish the
ones in my heart wouldn’t. I wanted to tell someone what was going on
behind closed doors. But even I was ashamed of the secret I was
keeping. I was living a lie. I wondered if anyone could see the traces of
my tears. I knew I would be judged and put on trial for what I had been
hiding. Disappointment is something I don’t want to face from family
and friends. This could cause me to lose it all. I worked hard to gain this
successful career for myself.
He almost loved me; he almost cared about me, and he almost acknowledged my existence, but almost doesn’t count.
The very thing that held us together was the very thing that would
tear us apart.
“What should I do?” That’s what I asked myself every day.
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