Falling Debris

            “Come here now, you little c**t!” Andy’s voice bellows up the stairs. I am hiding in my room. He is angry with me and I don’t know why. I don’t know what I’ve done this time, but he’s mad at me. I don’t want to go downstairs and face him. He’s bigger than me. He wants to hurt me. I haven’t done anything wrong. I don’t think I have anyway. He’s mean.

            “NOW!” the angry voice calls. Reluctantly, I leave my room and begin to walk downstairs. I hesitate when I see him standing at the bottom step. I want to turn around and go back into my room. Mummy isn’t home. She’s at work. He always picks on me when mummy isn’t here. He picks on me when mummy is here, sometimes, too. She never stops him.

I stand in front of him, trying to look brave, but the fear shows in my eyes. He knows I’m scared of him and he revels in it. His nostrils flare as he breathes in; it is almost as if he can smell my fear. I don’t know what he’s going to do. All I can do is stand here and wait for him to say something. I don’t want to, but it’d be worse if I didn’t do what he said. His stare burns into my face; his eyes are bloodshot, almost completely red with anger. I open my mouth to ask what I have done, but the evil glint in his eye stops me; I don’t want to encourage him to be nasty to me.

We stand there in silence for a moment before his rage spills out of his mouth in a tornado of insults.

“You’re a worthless piece of s**t. What did I ever do to get stuck with a kid like you? I’ll never understand why your mum wanted to have a baby. Especially one that turned out like you, you little f*****g c**t. Now get the f**k out of my house before I make you!” His venomous words sting like salt being rubbed into a fresh wound. Tears threaten to well from my eyes, but I refuse to cry. I won’t let him see me cry, because then he would win. Instead, I run to my room and throw some clothes into a plastic bag that lay on my bedroom floor. I grab a fresh t-shirt and some clean underwear from my drawers and head back down the stairs.

Andy’s face is illuminated in the monotonous yellow glow the light bulb radiates. His eyes are dark in contrast to the pinkness of his face. I try to sneak past him without him saying anything else to me, but he grabs my shoulder, his fingers gripping me tight, and I know I will be left with bruises. I wince at the pain. He sees this and laughs evilly; his thick laugh is filled with delight at the thought of hurting me. I look up at him, pain and sadness clear in my eyes.

“Where the f**k do you think you’re going, b***h?!”

“Y- You said to m-“ I stutter before I am cut off by him.

“I don’t give a f**k about what I said. Get in the f*****g living room!” As he says this, he glares at me, and I can see that his anger is becoming almost overwhelming.

            The living room is dark, the only light coming from the TV. Andy has shut the blinds and turned out the light. The thought of what he is going to do to me scares me and makes me cry. Tears run silently down my face, for I am too afraid to make a noise. As he walks into the room, he lunges at me, his hands gripping my throat tightly. I am forced back against the wall and his hands become even tighter around my throat, constricting my breathing. Panicking, I don’t know what to do. I can barely breathe and he looks as if he is enjoying this. I try to cry out in pain, but the most noise I can manage is a small squeal.

“Shut the f**k up!” He screams in my face. His breath is tinged with the faint smell of beer, and I know that he is drunk. He’s always angrier when he’s been drinking.

            I stand with my body pressed against the wall in a paralysed state, afraid to struggle out of his deathly grip. I decided to wait it out; he’ll let go eventually. He’ll let go. He’ll let go. He has to let go. He won’t kill me. He’ll let go...

            Suddenly the world is black and I drift off into a sleep haze.

 

            Soft hands gripped my shoulders and a gentle voice lulled “wake up, Kitten” in my ear repeatedly. Dazed and confused, I opened my eyes to see my lovers face staring into mine. I blinked and squinted, trying to focus my vision a little better as it was still cloudy from sleep. Faintly in my mind, I could recall a nightmare, though I could not remember what I had dreamt about. I supposed that it was a blessing that I couldn’t remember my dream; lately all my dreams had been horrific memories of my childhood.

            “You were crying in your sleep again,” his soft voice whispered as he softly wiped the residue of tears from my cheeks.

            “I can’t remember why,” I sighed, turning onto my side so that I could get a better view of his face.

            His dark hair was messy from sleep and curls fell over his shoulders. I looked up into his cold blue eyes and saw a familiar warmth that made me smile. His lips copied mine and curved up into a small smile before falling towards me and kissing me softly. Despite the debris of my forgotten nightmare, I was in my happy place, though how long that would stay for was left to be unknown.