This week I reached over 100 blog posts! I’m so excited and happy that I’ve taken a shine to blogging. Blogging has been such an enriching experience for both my mind and stories. To shake things up, I’ve written a short story. Enjoy!
Bang, he hit her again. Thud, again she is thrown into the wall.
“You bitch,” he repeats, “you are the reason my life is ruined.”
The pain hurts, it always hurts. Her arms throbbed, her breath was ragged, and her body was limp, broken like her mind. The words, ‘You bitch, you are the reason my life is ruined’ is like her mantra, a chant she is used to speaking. It’s a pray to her, maybe if she agrees with him, he’ll stop wailing on her already abused body: blue, black, purplish and swollen.
He won’t stop; please make him stop. As his fist kept slamming against her skin and bones, all thoughts faded from her mind. Red blood now stained her once clean white gown, and her nose broke, echoing with a crack.
“You bitch, you are the reason my life is ruined,” she spoke softly. Her hands covered her face, but she knows that won’t stop him, it only makes the pain worse.
Strong, calloused hands wrapped around her wrist, jerking her arms apart. Another black eye. Bam, kick to the stomach.
Her body felt moist, drenched in a cold sweat. Inhale, exhale, breath, calm down, it’s just a dream, she thought. She swung her legs over the side of the bed and slowly lifted up her body. The house was dark, quiet. It was her new home, a safe place away from her soon to be ex-husband.
Balancing herself, she walked through the hallway on her way to the kitchen. She wouldn’t be getting any sleep tonight – she had the dream again, and when she had the dream, there was no sleep.
Everything changed after they got married. Dating, was wonderful, being engaged, was exciting, being married, was devastating. He had goals, aspirations that didn’t involve settling down and being locked into one place.
She shook her head. She was thinking too much about the past, about a life that had been beaten and burned to death. Once she got to the kitchen, she pressed the power button on her Keurig and waited for the water to warm up. Coffee, coffee will make everything better, at least for tonight.
As she opened the cabinet door, she reached for the K-cup until she heard the familiar noise, “Mommie, Mommie!”
That call, that voice, she despised it. From the moment that voice came into her life, nothing was ever right. She remembered the reaction, the thing that would make most adults happy, made her miserable.
She let out an exasperated sigh and made her towards the bedroom. It was at the end of the hall, the last room in the center. “Mommie, Mommie!” The crying got louder.
She didn’t bother increasing her pace to the bedroom; she roamed, slowly.
When she finally got to the door, she opened it. There was her six-year older daughter, sitting in bed with tears streaming down her little face. Above the girl’s head was a dark shadow, with white eyes that shone through the darkness. It was the same one they both saw every night. Same dream, same time, and same nightmare.
She left one monster, just to find a new one. Maybe life is full of monsters, and only a few of us can see them.
I hope you all enjoyed this short story! I’m trying to get better at writing short stories so I can submit some for publication soon. If anyone didn’t get it, it’s about a wife who was abused. She left her ex-husband, but due to her bad marriage, she has resentment against her daughter. Her husband wasn’t ready to have a baby yet, so he blamed her. The mother found out her new place is haunted. =( It has a paranormal twist.