Abusive Love (part 2)

It was a long night with no sleep, but at least you can say you both enjoyed it.
You’re out in the kitchen making eggs just the way he likes them. The clock reads 8:50am. He shuffles out into the living room and sprawls on the couch wearing nothing but his boxers.
“What you making?” he asks.
“Eggs, for you.” you tell him.
You turn back to your eggs, his eggs, and put them on a plate. He sneaks up behind you and kisses you gently on the cheak. Then he takes the plate and retreats to the bedroom to get ready for work. This makes you smile, knowing that something you did of your own free will earned you a kiss on the cheak. But that makes you remember last night and how pathetic you felt, and you realize that this small satisfaction lowered you even farther.
Your hands do the dishes aimlessly as you think things through. You love him, your heart tells you that every time you see him. But some part of you hates him. You know you should leave, but the loving part is dominate over the hating part. You begin to think that you will never muster up the courage to walk away. And a part of you is oddly ok with that.
As you are mindlessly washing dishes, a knife slides deep into your finger and the clear tap water runs red.
“Crap.” you say trembling as tears come to your eyes. But you have to hold them back, don’t let him see.
You can’t stand anymore, you sit on the floor and let the real crying begin. Pain shoots up through your hand and your whole body starts to hurt. So you cry harder, too scared to do anything about the blood dripping out of your finger.
When he comes out, dressed for work, you ask through sobs, “Baby, can you take me to the hospital?”
“Does it look like I have time for this?” he almost yells.
You try not to cry because it always sseems to make things worse with him. He looks down at his watch, then at you.
“Let me see it.” he says sympatheticaly.
So you show him the deep slice in your finger. He holds it gently in his hand, turning it round to get a good look at it. Then he pulls out his cell phone and makes a call. For a second you expect him to be calling an ambulance, but then he starts talking.
“Hey, no, not now. No,” he says, almost like he’s frustrated. But then he changes his tone to a loving one and adds, “I gotta take my girl to the hospital. I’ll be late if I come in at all.”
And that’s what makes you stay.

Abusive Love (part 2)

Katie Trzcinka

Conowingo, United States

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