Through the Pain

[**Discretion** First off I would like to report that I do not in any way condone Domestic Violence.  It is stereotypical for a woman to be a victim. Though this is true in most cases, men can also be victims of abusive manipulating partners. I have written a short story about how a man could be a victim to a woman. If you or anyone you know is a victim, woman or man, in a domestic violence relationship I advice for you to seek help for yourself and family immediately.]


A hand moves above his head the slender fingers striking his stubbed cheek.. SMACK! The sound of their skins stinging like a swipe of a whip. The slap instantly had blood rushing to the surface of his face. He throws his hands up in defense shielding himself from the repeated blows to his head. Her hands now curled into fists. He’s much bigger than she and could easily over power the small five foot five angry woman. Instead he turns on his heels, giving her his back retreating from her tantrum. Infuriating the woman by his attempt to disregard her, she throws the crystal glass that was on the dinning room table which still contained a shot of vodka. She missed his head by mere inches the glass hitting the wall behind him instead. It shattered into hundreds of small diamond-like pieces showering onto the tile floor.
“Come back here you little bitch.” she spat the words out like venom, the alcohol lingering on her breath. He continues to move in the direction of their bedroom without looking back at her.
“I said come back. NOW!”She was hissing behind him ready to
charge her fury. When she was at his heels ready to enter the room along with him, the man slams the bedroom door shut in her face locking it fast.
“Open the fucking d-d-door or I swear… I am or will kick… it down.” The intoxication obvious on her heavy tongue. He hears the evil little demon kicking and punching the door.
In the closet he grabs a duffel bag and throws it on the bed.
“I can’t keep doing this.” he mutters to himself then swallows the lump forming in his throat. He catches a glimpse of the small silver frame that read “Family” carved into the design sitting on the dresser. Slowly he reaches for it to pick it up. The picture it held was that of proud parents, enormous smiles on their faces, as the held their newborn daughter for the first time… Their first family picture. The tears he had been holding back began to shed.
“Lord, please let her sleep through this.” He whispers a small prayer to himself sinking back in to the mattress with the frame cradled in his arms.The pounding on the door seizes to a stop and he takes a deep breath. Wiping his face with the palms of his hands, he stands from the bed putting the frame back in its place.

Opening the drawers, he retreats socks and underclothes that had been folded neatly inside and throws them into the blue traveling bag. He walks over to the closet and rummages through his clothes removing a few tee-shirts and a couple pairs of jeans from hangers throwing them inside the bag as well. The man a glimpse of himself in the mirror while running his fingers through the sandy hair. He was not a bad looking guy. Standing at about six feet three, he had strong widened shoulders that once played linebacker in college. His brown eyes are weary, swollen and red. He rubs his hand over his squared muscular jaw then fixing his posture he attempts to stand up straight only to sink into the mattress like before.
“What am I going to do?” He asked himself this question repeating it over and over rocking himself in his own arms. Should he tell her or just walk out? What will happen in the morning when their small daughter comes looking for him and he’s no longer home. Will she hate him? She won’t understand, her mind so small and innocent. His little princess will be searching for her daddy tomorrow morning if he leaves tonight.The thought of his daughter gives him the strength to get back on his feet. Shoving his feet inside the pair of Nike’s under the bed he wonders what will become of this dreadful night, then zips up the duffel bag throwing it over his shoulder.Inhaling a deep breath of air right before unlocking the knob and very quietly turns it.
He hoped the vodka in her system made her pass out somewhere in the house. He doesn’t want to risk waking up their child who slumbers only a couple doors down. The hardwood floor creaks as he makes his way to the door with his daughters’ name neatly painted in cursive with violet and pink. He cracks the door open, the Disney princess nightlight dully illuminates the small bedroom. On the tip of his sneakers he walks over to the canopy toddler bed. The child faces the wall holding a small baby doll to her chest. His baby’s features so sweet, the true definition of love. He chokes back more tears, he’s not saying goodbye. He will always be her daddy no matter what. With his large fingers he pushes strands of her light brown hair away from her face and plants a gentle kiss on her cheek, tugging the blanket up to her shoulders.
“I love you so much.” He whispers as quite as a breath in her ear, careful not to awaken his sleeping angel before reluctantly walking away closing the door behind him.

Her body is limp with her head resting on a forearm laid over the toilet. She heaves again and nothing comes up the water in the bowl already containing her undigested dinner. She flushes it and watches as the white porcelain fills back up with the clean water. Her head is pounding and her body weak making it impossible to stand to her feet. The walls and ceiling is spin too. She stares up at a fuzzy image at the door frame. She notices her husband holding a packed bag with a tight grip in his hand. Her head drops back on her arm and her sobbing begin. She’s so hopeless unable to understand why she does the things she does, then regretting every bit of it. Why can’t she love this man right? The vicious anger consuming her into a black-hole she can’t seem to crawl out of. The core pain of her past that still haunt her making her a heartless being.
The man glares at his wasted wife with a puzzled expression as he searched for the shine her eyes once had. Releasing the bag letting it fall by the door her husband walks into the bathroom stepping over her legs to turn the shower on. When he bends down to help her their eyes meet. Tears stream down her face, resentment deep in her heart.
“I’m sooo sorry.” She slurs with an intense glare, that pierced straight into his soul. His chest tightens at her words. Lifting her head in his hands he proceeds to wipe away her apology with his thumbs and kisses her forehead. It’s strange how he felt the need to comfort her. Always the need to protect her, even if is from her own self. How could he love her so much? He sat her up and away from her mess leaning her against the wall to pull her grey tank top over her head. She’s already bra less and her soft breast are now free. He picks the faded woman up under her arms, like he does to his daughter when she raises her arms up to him. When he gets his wife on her feet he leans her body on his and starts pulling down her black sweat pants and panties as she holds on to his strong bicep for balance.

She lowers herself into the the tub never releasing him until she sitting down. The icy water hits her body, in hopes of shocking it back to soberness. She sits there while he rubs soap on her body. He wipes her mouth and tells her to rinse, dabbing water on her face and behind her neck. He settles down on the floor near the tub and holds her hand. The routine so unsettling, too well known. Goosebumps rise throughout her body making her breast erect as well . When her teeth begin to chatter he turns off the water and helps her stand up again. She is no longer crying just speechless and in pain. On her way out of the tub her foot bumps the edge and she falls onto him . He holds her chilled wet body in
his arms she looks up and into his eyes again.
“Please don’t leave.” The plead was the only words her mouth could form. She wraps her arms around his waist burrowing her face into his chest. He inhales the scent of her strawberry shampoo stroking her damp hair holding her tight for a brief moment.
Grabbing the towel off the rack he began to dry her kneeling down to get her legs and feet then wraps in the towel. With a swift movement she is off the floor and into his arms. They walk down the hallway into to their bedroom then she looks up at him as he stares down at her.

“Please forgive me. Please don’t leave..” she repeats the same she had before her bottom lip trembling. Gently,he places his wife on their bed then gets her one of his tee-shirts and a pair of hipsters. With help from her husband she dresses and tears begin to stream down her face again. He sits down beside her and pulls her closer to him.
“Don’t cry baby. Please stop.” He coos to her, shushing her while he rocks her in his arms until she begins to fall asleep mumbling to him as she drifted…
“Don’t go.” Her eyes flutter becoming like lead as she slips into unconsciousness. He lays her body down pulling on the covers up, kicking of the sneakers on his feet then sliding in behind her. He looks at his beautiful woman laying in his arms. For better or for
worst he thinks to himself . His lips brush against her ear making her a promise he whispers …
“I won’t go my queen.” before slipping away with her knowing she would never let him go even if he desired it.

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