Given Hope

Abused I

TRIGGER WARNING ⚠️ [This is only Part 1]

I jam the key into the lock and twist it, clenching my whole body as I know what is about to come. The door handle has paint chipping off, and is dented. It's the 12th place we've lived in this year. A studio apartment, but definitely not worth the 800 a month we pay for it. It's worn down and is infested with roaches and mice. I push open the door.

Initially the heat from the apartment welcomes me. But I know this is far from what I wish I could call my, "Home Sweet Home", as the smell of cigarettes and vomit force themselves into my nostrils.

"You're late!", his rough voice bellows over the loud rap music. My body flinches back as a bottle is thrown at my head and misses by 2 feet, crashing against the wall behind me, shattering. An obvious sign that he's drunk, if he wasn't so intoxicated, it would have hit me.

"There was traffic", I put my bag down on a old table near the front door.

"Traffic my ass. You don't even drive."

"I take the bus, the bus gets into traffic, what more do you expect Derek", I slowly take off my winter coat, the snowflakes finally beginning to melt.

"Don't talk to me like that you bitch, it's not my fault the car got impounded."

"You're the one who didn't pay the insurance on time." I whisper under my breath, hoping he doesn't hear.

I turn to look at him, the same look as always, a 5 o'clock shadow, white tank top and basketball shorts, Nike flip flops and a freshly opened beer in his hand. His usual attire.

We were in love once, or at least I was. He used to be sweet, and would wear dress shirts and take me out on dates. He used to surprise me with flowers every month or so. Then, 2 years into our relationship he had proposed. We got married and I was pregnant. It was a baby girl. She was a still born. I never got to hear her cry, never got to change a little diaper.

He was affected the most. He went to the bar every night, and would come home when the sun was already beginning to rise. The first time he ever hit me, I left. But I loved him, and I went back. That was 3 years ago.

"Why is it me that is working? At least you could help and get a job too, maybe we could have a better place then this shit hole", I point to the room that we eat, sleep, and just generally live in.

"You shut up!", his face turns red and he drops the beer on the floor as he lifts his hand and slaps me across the face, causing a piercing pain I'm all too familiar with. "I'm fucking tired of you acting like you're a boss bitch. I'm in fucking charge in this relationship" he grips my shoulders and pushes me against the wall, the broken beer bottle crunches under my shoes. "You're gonna get it tonight you stupid cunt." His fist collides with my face twice, my body shrivels to the floor as I try to protect myself.

"Derek please stop", I'm barely even able to choke out those words. Blows keep coming in contact with my face and back.

He stops but I stay in the crouched position. It gets quiet, other than the voice of Biggie Smalls coming through our worn out speaker.

I look up and he's holding a knife.

Authors note:
So this is the first in a serious of short stories I am planning on writing. This is part one of this certain story. I hope you guys like it.