His Rage

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I couldn’t hold the tears back any longer, I quietly closed the door of my room and burst into hysterical tears. I tried to hold back my sobs, but all I could do was gasp for air between the painful whimpers emanating from my throat. In the back of my mind I was concerned about waking up my parents, of being heard, but it didn’t matter, now that everything had broken free, I was afraid that I would never be able to lock it away again.
After minutes, maybe hours, I sat up on my bed and looked at my reflection in the mirror next to my dresser. My eyes were red and puffy. My supposedly water proof mascara had run all the way down my cheeks. But even more daunting than the makeup was the black and purple bruise blooming under my eye and along my temple. This would be hard to hide even with cover-up. My parents couldn’t see this, there was no reasonable explanation, nothing I could say that would make them understand. How could anyone understand? I didn’t even understand it myself.
I had never dreamed that any of this would have happened. I never thought it would be me. But who did? At first things had been great. Being with Tristan had made me feel special. He had made me feel special. It all felt like a memory now, so far away from what everything really was. He had always had a temper, I’d known that from the beginning, but I never thought that I would be the subject of his rage. I never thought that I would be his slab of dry wall to smash in when he got angry. I’d been in his room before, I’d seen all the holes in his wall. I’d witnessed first-hand, what he could do in his fury. I should have listened to the small voice in my head telling me to stay away from him. But, of course I didn’t. I just wanted to lose control, to feel free for a little while, to be reckless and disobey my parents for once in my life. Look where it got me.
This was the first time he had ever hit me, but certainly not the first time he had been rough with me. It started with my arms, he would wrap his big hands around them and squeeze. He was strong, so I couldn’t pull away, not that I had ever tried. It was winter the first time he left bruises, so I had no problem keeping it a secret. At first I asked myself why I didn’t just end it, and I never really had an answer, I wish I would have seen it. I’d let this go on too long, he knew that I would let him get away with everything he did. I couldn’t end it now, if he could hit me because I didn’t return his last call, I couldn’t even imagine what he would do if I told him I couldn’t be with him anymore. Just the thought made me shudder with fear for my own life.
I wiped my eyes with my sleeve and pushed my shoes off my feet. I undressed and slipped into my pajamas. I walked into my bathroom and flipped on the light. The right side of my face was swollen and purple. The sight of my own reflection brought tears to my eyes again. I pulled my long brown hair into a pony tail and turned on the faucet to wash my face. The skin was tender so after splashing it a few times with warm water I turned it off and very gently dabbed my face dry with a soft towel. Tomorrow was Sunday, my family usually woke up for 9:30 mass at the church, but I was pretty sure I could get out of it by faking sick. While the family was away I could hopefully get some time to cover the bruise. I flicked off the light and pulled back the covers of my queen size bed. I closed my eyes and hoped that, at least in my dreams, I would be able to escape.





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xBaByGiRrL22x said...
May 4, 2010 at 10:10 pm
ooo very good & very true. Personally, I dont really understand why some girls take that awful abuse from guys, especially if it's from somone they're in a relationship with. they just try 2 hide it and continue 2 go on with da same person. As we know, u cant. I feel more girls/women should take a stand against their abusers. this is a really good piece;)
 
have_a_heart This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. said...
Feb. 12, 2010 at 4:47 pm
that was a wonderful portrayal of abuse.
 
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