Reflections from the past, so far away, yet never far enough
When “I do,” should have been “I don’t”
His fist hit the solid wood closet door behind me with such force, I was sure it had cracked.
Eyes glaring so intensely, yet not seeing me at all.
Was this it? Is this how it ends? Who would find me? Would they find me?
Yelling, screaming, so loud, unintelligible.
Pushing, pleading, shoving, falling.
Laying, crying, bleeding, hurting.
A hand on my neck, shoving my face into the floor with so much force I couldn’t breath.
Demanding, insisting, berating, I am pulled to my feet.
My hands providing what little barrier I can between him and the six month old life inside of me.
Pulling, dragging, kicking, shoving, the front door slamming behind me.
The neighbors helping me to my feet, the rehearsed lies slip easily from my mouth.
Out he comes, loving, adoring, acting, deceiving.
Back to hell we go.