‘The last time’
By Beverly Brown
She walked to work that day because he took her keys. Her head hung low as she feared what he would do next. She used to care how she looked but now her only care is to wear clothing that covers up all the bruises. She couldn’t risk anyone finding out for fear of what he would do next.
She wanted out but was too scared to run. She was too scared of what to say or do because everything she did was wrong. And everything wrong had a consequence to it. A beating. There was no logical reason why and no answer in her mind but only this doubt that it will never get better and convincing herself she deserved it.
She was enjoying the fresh fall air and the sound of the leaves blowing against the pavement. It was such a beautiful day. She saw a mother teaching her child to ride a bicycle. She saw a couple walking down the street holding hands. He used to be so nice. He would take her out to dinner and buy her flowers and even opened and closed the car door for her. She didn’t know where it all went wrong until it became a strain to even make him happy anymore.
When she arrived at work she went into the bathroom. She fumbled around in her purse for her makeup to touch up the bruises. When she looked in the mirror she saw that her left cheek was badly bruised. That bruise came from two nights ago when he came home from work and he had just had a bad day. She didn’t have the house cleaned and dinner wasn’t on the table because she had just got home from work herself. It was also payday and she forgot to pick her check up from work. He demanded for her check. She didn’t have a plausible explanation on why she forgot it. When she replied she didn’t have it, a bitter look crossed his face as his anger escalated. He stood up from the table and took off his belt casually. He took a careful look making sure it was in perfect condition for a rigorous beating. Before she had a chance to blink he whipped her right across the face. He gnarled and lifted the table and everything on it came crashing to the floor. He grabbed her by the neck and she started choking. He threw her across the room and left.
A sick feeling came over her thinking about that moment. She gave one last look in the mirror as a tear fell down her cheek. She slowly put her hand to her face to catch it. She wanted it to stop. She wanted it all to just go away. She just wanted to be happy. And when she tried talking to him, it only made it worse.
She looked down at her watch and it was time to clock in. She got herself together and tried to put a smile on her face.
All day long she kept watching the clock and dreading for quitting time to near. She even made some lame excuse to her boss about needing extra hours to prolong going home. She could feel her heart racing and a headache coming on. She started to become clumsy and weak, as it got closer. But she knew she had to be strong.
When she got home she changed out of her work clothes. Not knowing how she was going to face him she thought of what her grandmother always used to tell her. “Real confidence comes from knowing and accepting who you are.”
She never really knew what that meant or why her grandmother always used to say that. She never knew until now. She has let him tear down her confidence and take away whom she truly is inside. She will no longer let him excel in control. He has pushed her to the very bottom and diminished her outlook on herself. She has decided to take a stand and rise to the top of this mountain.
Her first step is to know she is a survivor. Her second step is to conquer her fear of him and putting the power in her hands and out of his. It wasn’t going to be easy but she had to have a strong determination to do it. And most importantly she knew she had to be resilient to his attacks. She needed to be capable of building up her confidence in herself. Being strong enough to not let his beat downs get to her. Knowing in the end she can breathe freely with a smile and he is not standing in her way of happiness any longer.
She heard the door close downstairs. She quickly stuck her cell phone in her back pocket where he couldn’t see it. She walked into the kitchen with her head held high and not down like she used too. He questioned her appearance. He threw the assumption that maybe she was cheating on him and he became indignant. She knew where this was leading and, without him knowing, dialed for help. He took his fist to her face and threatened her. He slapped her across the face and shouted out verbal put-downs. She heard the sirens, as he was ready to take his last swing at her. The police beat down the door and handcuffed him. A tear fell down her face, as she looked him in the eyes as they were walking him out the door.
“You can’t hurt me anymore!” she said through her tears realizing what she has overcome and what she has withstood. “This was the last time.”
Beverly Brown is a freelance writer from Presque Isle. The 24-hour domestic violence hotline for the Hope and Justice Project is (800) 439-2323.
