A Nightmare, the exposition

My fingers were too weak, the tips could barely reach out, to beg for mercy. 

He had come home and I knew right away there was going to be trouble.  Big trouble.  Living with his extremes had become part of my existence, part of my survival, until I could figure a way to get away.  Not only was I trapped in this marriage, but my daughters and I were trapped in a country that found it fit to keep us from going back to The United States.

He looked at me and said, “What’s for dinner?” 

“I made chicken and rice.”

He moved, body rippling, ferocious, to the kitchen stove.  Lifting the lid of the pot, he looked in and looked up at me, laughing.

“You call that food?”, he said while simultaneously dumping it on the tile floor.

I felt the old familiar fear creep slowly from my toes, up my spine and buzz into my brain.  My eyes darted to the room where my daughters were.

He followed my eyes and laughed again.

“Nothing you can do will save them now.  To punish you I’m going to make you watch them die.”  With that he pulled a fillet knife from the drawer. 

There was no doubt in my mind that he meant what he said when I saw his cruel eyes.  He was in that other place, where nothing remained of the man who sometimes stopped this man from acting.  I was left with a monster and had no idea what to do. 

Distraction.  I went up to him and said, “Honey, I’m sorry.  You know I love you.  I’ll make you whatever you’d like.  Come.  Sit down.  Let me make you a cup of mint tea.”

He hit me with such ferocity that I was knocked down, slipped on the food and my head hit the tile.  I didn’t have to feel my nose to know it was bleeding;  I was just grateful  to still be conscious.

My fingers were too weak, the tips could barely reach out, to beg for mercy.

But I did because I didn’t have a choice.  The knife was in his hands.  I grabbed his legs, begging him to stop.  He dragged me across the floor, heading to my girls’ room.  I could hear them playing, oblivious to what was unfolding. 

“Please.  Please!  Don’t do this.  They are your children.  Kill me!  It’s me you hate.  Kill me.”

He grabbed my hair, pulled my neck back and put the knife to it.

“No.  Too easy.  I want you to remember this forever.  Live with it forever.  Because of you, they will die.”

I was losing my ability to think, my brain was shutting down to escape this unbearable trauma.  Now it became a battle of my will to stay in the moment.  Not for me, but for my precious girls.

I was crying.  Time moves so strangely.  What felt like an eternity was just a matter of moments.  We got to their door.

“Stand up!”, he ordered me.  I wouldn’t let go of his legs, somehow thinking this could stop him.

“Stand up, bitch!!!!!!!”  Inside the room had become quiet.  Their silence tortured me because I knew they were no longer blissfully ignorant of what was taking place.   The lioness was not protecting her cubs.

I stood.  Blocked the door.

“You think you can stop me, you stupid bitch?”  And he laughed.  The demon within him surfaced in his voice and on to the surface of his skin.  RipplingMoving. Alive.

I stood, not moving.  Silent.  Defiant.

“I only wanted you to know what I could do.  Never forget it.”

He dropped the knife, walked down the hall and out of the house.

That night I threw the kitchen window open, raised my fist, screamed at the source greater than myself and put out an ultimatum to that source.

The nightmare continued, but something within me shifted.  I became hardened, determined and prepared to do whatever was necessary.  Including murder.

About the Author ()

I am very passionate, sometimes too impulsive, a lover of life and all that it has to offer.

Leave a Reply