Beaten

The white light flashes before your eyes and your body flies against the wall.

“Please don’t hit me again. I’m sorry.” You beg him through tears

The continuous slaps at your face. Your eyes begin to swell. Your heart pounding.  Each hit shoves left to right. Your children crying in the background. You know there is nothing you can do to help them. To stop their nightmares and mend their broken spirits. Swearing to yourself that this is the last time. If you can get through this no more apologies. Your head begins to spin. You can hardly open your eyes. A pool of blood surrounds you. You can see a blurry vision of your husband taking off his belt.

He is still screaming. “I told you not to make me do this. This is your fault. I didn’t want to do this. But you have forgotten your lesson it has been too long since the last time.”

The belt buckle hits you in the face. Teeth fly out of your mouth you hear them as they roll across the floor. Another hit lands slicing your eyes.

You scream “Please stop I‘m sorry.”

Your three-year-old tries to runs to you. He throws her across the room. Her cries stop. Fear that you have never felt runs through you. Your hand reaches out searching around you. You find the fire poker and grip it tight. He sees you.

He screams “What are you doing?”

As he swings the belt at you for the last time you thrust the fire poker into his fat fleshy stomach. He begins to fall forward as the poker slides deeper into his flesh. The belt still in motion hits you smack in the head. The room spins around and everything goes black.

You slowly open your eyes to bright lights overhead. Your right eye is bandaged. Your mother is sitting next to your hospital bed. She is holding your daughter. You turn to her and reach your hand out and hold your daughter’s hand. Your mother’s eyes fill with tears. She knows this will never happen again. You can finally sleep in peace. You can work and have friends. You can see your family. But most importantly you know your daughter will never be hurt again. That alone was your only hope. Your prayer to God. Now she can grow up safe but most importantly she will grow up.

Poetry In Motion Uncategorized

Becky DiFilippo View All →

I’m a writer… I love to write! I’ve been writing since I was eight years old. I can’t imagine life without stories. My life, and your life it’s a story that we are writing everyday.

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