*Warning. Although there is nothing explicit about this story, it contains strong language and themes of abuse.
He was there,
standing in the doorframe, scars and new cuts covered his body, he glared at
me. "Tell me who you are f*****g," he said, menacingly. I was barely
awake. Barely conscious of what had just happened. One minute I was sleeping.
The next minute my door was being banged and wrenched open. And there he was,
accusing me.
My first coherent thought was what about the kids? My next thought was a mix
of anger and terror. Is this it? Is this the night he finally decides to kill
me? I sat up in bed, trying to formulate words that would make sense in this
situation. "The kids are sleeping, I have to work in the morning, and you
are not being logical," I said, as calmly, and icily as I could.
I guess he thought
that shaking me awake in the middle of the night would make me confess to
whatever it was he imagined I was doing now. Yes, a*****e, all day long,
whenever I get the chance, I get banged. You had your chance, you blew it, and
now we are getting divorced. Deal with it like a grown up instead of acting
like you own me. The shock value of such a statement, whether or not it was true, may very well have landed
me in the hospital, or the morgue. "Get out of my room," I said.
"Unlike you, one of us has to work to pay the bills."
The door was hanging
off its hinges. The injuries on my husband's hands and body were from slamming
against the door and prying it open in his rage. He wasn't used to the me who kept my cool. The one who didn't panic and cower in terror. He mumbled under his breath. "I know you are lying to me. I know there is someone else." I ignored him, and turned over. He left the room without further incident. A broken door could be fixed. I had avoided being screamed at, shaken, pushed around, raped.
My husband's ego just couldn't grasp the fact that I was done with him. I was finished with the anger, the abuse, the lies and the stealing. There had to be someone else. That was the only thing that made sense to his warped mind. 21 more days and he would be
gone. I only hoped the kids and I could wait that long ...