She Survived

Stardust mingled with her bloody tears, leaking out of the cracks in her once lily white soul. There was something growing inside of her that complicated everything. She fought the urge to sink her unhappiness in a bottle. She hid her weary face in trembling hands. The same, slight, alabaster hands that he had bent over when begging her to marry him. It wasn’t the child. She already loved the microscopic speck that was going to be the next William Shakespeare or the next Albert Einstein. Something kept telling her she just didn’t love the planter of the seed. She accepted his offer of marriage. He seemed to honor her. The child needed a father. She could get out of this wretched town. She could leave her family behind. Marrying him was the fastest way to accomplish that. She didn’t know. She couldn’t have known. You never suspect those who declare themselves to love you to break your spirit or your face…You read all of these beautifully convoluted fairytales and believe that you are guaranteed a happy-ending. She thought that in spite of everything, she would get her happy-ending. All of the men, young and old, up to this point in her life had kissed her hands, carried her parcels, opened doors, and admired her beauty, whether it was there or not. It was part of her culture, a forgotten leftover from what was once a matriarchal society.

He slapped her on the wedding night. He beat her even though she was carrying his child. He had to show her what her place was. “You can’t leave” he said, “What are you going to do with a little child, all by yourself?” She believed him. She stayed. She gave birth. He wasn’t even there. He was rotting in jail for disturbing the peace. He cast his seed. He declared the child as his. He angered his wife. He did nothing to help her. He worked only when he felt like it. He wouldn’t let her work. He gave her money only when he felt like it. He broke her car so she couldn’t get to work. He broke her heart so that she wouldn’t feel like working. She liked to drink herself unconscious. Then he had to take care of the child. It numbed the pain. For a few hours. It hurt even more when she was sober. She was so tired. The child wouldn’t stop crying. Her breasts ached from the child’s jaws. Her back ached from scrubbing the floors. Her mind ached because it didn’t know how she could stand it any longer. Her soul ached. Did she even have one? Her eyes ached because she wouldn’t let the tears flow. Everything was a giant mass of pain. The child wouldn’t sleep. She didn’t sleep. She barely had time to eat or dress. She wore whatever. She didn’t even feel like a woman anymore. She didn’t feel human. She was a robot and she was a punching bag.

He came home at random hours. He invited people whenever he wanted to, without warning, just so that she would look bad if the house wasn’t pristine. It gave him another reason to exercise his fists. She kicked him back. It didn’t work for long. He only hit harder and faster, enraged that she fought back. He walked around town with his child, reaping the compliments, showing off. He liked saying that he was a father. But when push came to shove and that little girl needed something, he would walk away. Why did she run away and never call him daddy? Stupid child. Here’s another reason to beat the wife.

She got a few restraining orders against him. He spent some time in jail. Nothing helped. He came back and everything was exactly the same as before. There came a day when they just wouldn’t release him. They sent him back to his home country because he never applied for papers. There came a day when she just couldn’t pay the bills. She threw everything into boxes, threw her child on her back, and took a truck back to her home state. She went back to the family that she ran away from. It wasn’t good. It wasn’t great. But at least she was away from him.

Love does not hate. Love is gentle. Love is kind. Love is patience. Love can sometimes be a little blind. Love does not break your jaw. Love does not cause blood to trickle down your smashed in face. Love is not spiteful. Love is not base. Love is the soul of life. That wasn’t Love. That was a kind of evil there are no words for. She didn’t live happily ever after but she didn’t live unhappily ever after, either. She simply lived. She survived. Not everyone survives.

Reviews

[Amanda Dawn Sanderson-G..]

Damn girl, you definitely have a talented hand of a genius writer. Your word choice is perfect; I love your short, yet powerful sentences. "Her soul ached. Did she even have one?"; this shows how overpowering he had truly become in her life. If one believes she is souless just because of an act taken out on her, without reason, then she is definitely under total control and lost in misery and pain. I feel so bad for this girl... so hurt... I can feel her pain through your words. "Why did she run away and never call him daddy? Stupid child. Here’s another reason to beat the wife. " Calling her own child stupid for being ignorant in the ways of her father but knowing that there was no need to call him 'daddy' because he wasn't. Knowing that she even threw angry words towards her child proves that she is far gone, lost and abused to the point where she just doesn't care anymore; she knows that everything is a punishment, even the ignorance of her own child.


"She simply lived. She survived. Not everyone survives." Powerful, yet truthful ending. It put tears in my eyes but thank god for survival. Even when her attempts to fight back failed her, she was strong enough to survive.


You are indeed very talented my dear. I thank E.H. for pointing me in your direction.

[Major Killer]

Great story..
Do write more

[T]

I felt the story was good with some great lines although for me personally the repitition of the words He, She, Love was a too much. Also the sentence length in some of the paragraphs were too similar making it monotonous, especially in the second paragraph. Yet, I would agree with Robin about the ending. Overall I think its a great story filled with emotion. I think maybe with revision this could be a little better. Just my opinion.

[stellasautelle]

Nice work :)

[E.H. Monroe]

F*****g A Ms. A A,
This was a walk down memory lane for all the ruthless b******s that have ever done this. The overwhelming feeling of "I deserve this" is one repeated by my mom and plenty of moms and wives and sisters from around the goddamn globe.
These freaks should have their dicks chopped off and used as anal corks.

Spun beautifully as always

[Robin]

the ending to this is pure heart and soul ..