“Please,” I shrieked, “please stop!” but he kept hitting me. It began with a slap across the mouth for a simple comment. He backhanded me when I mentioned the bathroom sink was beginning to clog. He took it as an insult, told me I didn’t respect him and the hard work he put into keeping this dump livable. I could see it in his eyes, as soon as my lip began to trickle, the blood excited him. Trying to diffuse the situation, I told him it wasn’t his fault, and I would make sure a plumber took a look at it right away.
He called me a stupid cunt. I tried to run, but he fisted my hair and dragged me across the bed. Yanking my head backward painfully, he screamed at me to open my eyes and look at him. I didn’t want to; I knew what he would see.
As soon as he saw the fear in my eyes, a grin spread across his face, his breathing began to quicken. He jerked his arm viciously, snapping my neck even further. Then the first punch fell; it crushed my nose and I began to gasp for air as blood poured down my throat. Eager to cause more pain, he punched again and again until I couldn’t breathe and began to choke. Then he threw my head forward; the blood gushed from my lips, my wracking cough enough to tell him I could take more.
Walking around the other side of the bed, he again used my hair to drag my struggling body onto the floor. I heard my hip snap upon contact with the hardwood. He did too. I looked up through swollen, battered eyes and gurgled, “Please…” It was all he needed to enrage the indignant fire that burned within him. Lifting me to my knees, his first kick landed in my broken hip. He released me, and I flopped onto my back. He began to stomp my body. Trying desperately to get away, I rolled onto my side. Blinding pain shot through me as the pieces of shattered bone in my hip shifted. I tried to curl into a fetal position, but he reached down and broke my arm so I couldn’t protect my head. I could feel his hot breath as he hissed, “You’ll never disrespect me again, bitch!”
The beating seemed to last forever, the ferociousness of his attack unlike any I’d experienced before. And there had been many, for greater indiscretions than this. Somehow, I managed to push myself backward toward the wall with my good leg. Watching my pathetic attempt, he slammed his foot into my curled midsection, hurling my body into the corner I hoped would be my salvation.
With my back to the wall, I lay there barely breathing. I could see nothing out of my blood-smeared swollen lids, could form no words with my destroyed jaw. Both arms and one leg were completely useless; a soft mewling escaped my throat. I heard the bathroom sink turn on, heard him wash his hands under the running water. When the water stopped, I listened as the drain slowly dispelled the water with a slow suckling gurgle.
Hearing his boots clomp back to the bedroom, my wrecked body began to shake uncontrollably. In a casual tone, he mentioned that he might need to call a plumber about the drain just before his boot crushed my esophagus. While I lay there wheezing in the fading light, I listened as he whistled to himself, changed his blood-spattered clothes and went out for the evening.
© Copyright 2013 Nina D’Arcangela. All Rights Reserved.
Coffin Hop Goodies!
How do you get them? Comment on my Coffin Hop 2013 posts on this blog – I’m posting something new each day, so keep coming back for more chances to win. When will they be announced? When the hop ends (after October 31st). What are they going to be? A surprise! I like surprises, don’t you? ;}
and the Sirens Call Publications blog:
The Sirens Song
plus the blog for the writing group I belong to:
Pen of the Damned
and all the other amazing hoppers on the Coffin Hop list!