February 25, 2010
By saosinfan22793 BRONZE, Dayton, Ohio
saosinfan22793 BRONZE, Dayton, Ohio
1 article 1 photo 0 comments

Favorite Quote:
"Don't throw a life away just because it's banged up a bit."

"Anger is like concrete, the longer it's there the harder it gets."

I feel like I can’t breathe. Like someone put a 500-pound bowling ball on my chest. Like someone is squeezing my head between two heavy blocks of cold ice, so cold that it makes my whole body burn. Sometimes I hear him talking to me, saying sweet things and then I see him smile. But like every dream of mine, he turns into a nightmare.
I start to see him…I start to see his face get angry…I…I see the small beads of sweat on his forehead. I have made him angry. I see his hand swing back and I close my eyes to embrace the pain. I try to wake up before I feel this but I can’t…because this is not a dream. This is reality.
If he sees me cry he will hit me again, “Don’t be a baby.” He would say.
I hold my breath, trying so hard to keep my tears hidden but one ends up escaping.
“Are you crying?” the sound of ice on his tongue, originating from his heart.
“No.” I whisper, quickly wiping the tear away.
He slams his fist hard on my knee, “Don’t lie to me!”
I gasp from the pain. I realize the he is going 100 miles per hour.
“Please…slow down.” I beg.
As soon as I said it I knew it was a bad idea. As we drive faster and faster, I think to myself that I am surprised. He did not hit me. He did not look at me. He is acting as if I am not in the car. Don’t I wish that could be the case.
I am thinking about how my father always used to tell me, when I was twelve, “If you are ever in the car with someone who is not being a responsible driver, you tell them to pull over and get out. I will pick you up wherever you are, no matter what.”
“John pull over.” I whisper.
“What!” he yelled.
“Pull over!” I felt a surge of courage. It made me feel better, although, it didn’t last long.
He glares at me then for a quick second I notice…sadness in his eyes, which quickly goes away along with his memories of our love. His car goes faster and faster.
I think about a movie a saw a while ago about a young, courageous, woman who is trapped in a car, like me. The woman ends up jumping out of the car onto the asphalt road. She stands up with only cuts and blood all over her body. I think about doing it, jumping. It’s just a movie though; I would have to be very lucky to live after this kind of jump. It is a stupid idea. All my hopes are shattered.
It is very quiet now in the car. John is speeding but not as fast as before. I think about more ways of escaping because I know what is about to happen to me. I feel my phone burn through my pocket. The good voice tells me to call the police. I carefully pull my phone out hoping John wouldn’t see. I hide the phone behind my thigh and I dial the number. I feel a small percentage of hope and my muscles relax a bit.
The call is connected, all I need is for him to yell at me or hit me just one more time.

“Hello? Hello? Is anyone there?” I hope he can’t hear the lady on the phone. This is my last hope.
“What’s that sound?” he asked irritated.
I said nothing. I don’t know what to say. I am no longer in control of my life, he is.
The lady still talks.
“Do you hear that?”
I shake my head, “No.”
He starts looking around. I feel like I have forgotten how to breathe. I try to put my phone in my pocket. When I think he’s not looking I put my phone back, where it came from. I didn’t do it fast enough. He saw me. He is more enraged.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
I didn’t answer.
While watching the road he reached into my pocket. I try to push his hand away but then he just hits me. He pulls out my phone to find the already dialed 911 number. He throws my phone out the window.
I say nothing. I cry. I’m scared.
He hit me again, and again, and again. Why is this happening to me? Why can’t anyone help me? When will this end? Why did I let this go on for so long?
As the car was stopping, I realize we are in the middle of nowhere; I have no idea where we are. This is where it is going to happen. Now I don’t want to get out of the car.
“Get out.” He says.
He meets me on my side of the car, he grabs my arm. We walk for a distance. He hits me more and more until I can feel the warm wetness of blood on my face. I fall down.
While he stands over me he says, “If I can’t have you, no one can.”

The author's comments:
This is an exaggerated version of personal experience.

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