THE MORNING

  I wake up with a gasp.

   Pain throbs all over my body. Dried blood in my nose makes it hard to breathe.  Just breathing is hard. I can feel the missing places in my jaw where teeth should be.  The nightmare didn’t help. The sheets on the bed are soaked with sweat and I’m freezing from the cold. I reach for a blanket but there’s nothing. There’s blood on the pillow from my nose and mouth. I cough and more blood covers what‘s left of the white. My bruised ribs ache, my back is sore as hell.  My legs are cramped and welted like my arms. 

  I try to pull myself to the edge of the bed. It hurts so much to move. Every part of my body is screaming and I want so much for it to stop, but I need to move. I see the blanket on the floor. I shouldn’t stay in bed with all this blood. I need to get to the bathroom and clean up. The sun's light doesn’t fill the room but reflections from somewhere illuminate the rest. 

 I know it’s going to hurt to sit up, but I have to. I move my arms under my chest. It hurts to breath. I push against the bed and my back starts screaming in agony.The bedroom is a mess. My broken lamp lies next to the bed. Clothes are spread all over the floor. My broken chair and desk lie everywhere. Walls are holed, dented and cracked. Plaster and mortar cover parts of the hardwood.  All around the room, there is just broken or scattered crap. I pull my legs to the edge of the bed and let my feet hit the floor. I know eventually as the blood gets back to my extremities, the pain will lessen.  I get almost to a sitting position and the pain goes into overdrive on my back. A cold sweat starts flowing from my every pour. I shiver uncontrollably. I feel tears well up in my eyes and my breath is gasping and fast. More pain. I stop. It’s all I can do is stop where I am and rest.

   I sit there for almost 5 minutes. The cold of the room makes me shiver. It hurts just doing that. I try to stand. Pain. I look down at myself.  I’m naked. A bruised and bloody mess. My chest is a painting of brown, purple, red and all different colors. Dried blood and scabs intermingled with the bruises and welts all over my chest, abdomen and legs. I try again to stand. I gotta get to the bathroom. Pain all over, striking like lightning all along my legs and back. I push on, trying to get to a standing position. 

  I’m upright, mostly. I rest again, though there is-- throbbing pain in my back and legs. I wait until the pain stops before I try to walk.  It takes longer than I thought. I shift my weight and step forward. It hurts but not as bad. I wait. Then use my other leg. It works too. It’s a small comfort that I can walk, but every step is pain. I scrape my feet along the floor. The plaster and clothes intermingling on my feet. I’ll try to pick everything up when I’m done in the bathroom. I stop at the door. Leaning on the frame I rest. Pain courses through me. Feels like I walked 20 miles.

  I move into the bathroom.  It’s daylight but I switch on the light. The place is a mess. My toilet is missing the seat cover, the shower curtain has been partly torn down. 

I don’t recognize the face in the cracked mirror. It’s a wash with bruises and dried blood. My right eye is puffed out and bruised. That explains why I can barely see. The other isn’t so bad. It’s bruised but the swelling is down. My lips are dried, cracked and split in several places. My cheeks and the sides of my jaw are purple and red with bruising. Scrapes and scratches are all over my face. I turn on the water, grab some tissues and start dabbing on the blood after wetting it in the cold water.  I find the alcohol under the sink and steadily start sterilizing my wounds. I wish I could remember what happened.  The headache I have makes me think that I must have taken a few blows to the head. I can’t remember anything except the pain and....Him. He beat me up. He came in and beat me up!

I hear banging on the door. It’s strong, loud, angry and it doesn’t stop. IT’S HIM AGAIN? Not again!  I’m not even close to being healed from yesterday and now he’s back.  Why can’t he leave me in peace!

  The onslaught continues on the door. It creaks and groans under the pressure. He’s pushing on it now. It starts to give. I can see it coming off the hinges. The wood is buckling and splinters are flying off the frame. I just got it back up yesterday but he got in before I could close it. I can barely remember the beating from yesterday but I know it’s him. I move from the bathroom to the bedroom. It still hurts but I ignore the pain. The closet is open and I head for it. I hear the door crack. He’s kicking it. It’s going to break open. I pull the closet door closed and back against the wall. I feel my body shaking, sweat pouring down my back. The pain is an after thought now.  He’s coming for me. He’s going to hurt me again. He might kill me this time. Why? Why is he doing this? What does he want?

  The Door breaks open. 

Oh No! He’s passed the door.

It’s quiet. I can hear myself breathing hard and fast. I try to calm myself. The pain’s there but adrenaline is pumping freely now. I hear the cracking of wood. He’s searching for me. He’s in the kitchen now. He will find me soon. 

 I have to be quiet. If he hears me, he’ll find me. I reach down quietly for some clothes and throw them over myself. I have to hide. I can make it look like a pile of clothes. Maybe he won’t see me.

He’s moving to the living room. The apartment is small. He’ll be in the bedroom soon and then the closet. I hope he didn’t bring the softball bat. Anything but the bat. I grab anything I can. I lay on the floor, quietly pulling the clothes over me. I cover my feet and my waist. I find a bunch of shirts and pants. It hurts to do this but I have to be quick and quiet. I hear his footsteps moving hard and fast. He’s in the bedroom. I curl up under the clothes, holding my breath: can’t breathe or he’ll see the clothes move. I freeze as he moves toward the closet door. This is it!

  The door opens with a loud creak.  I freeze. I hear him breathing. It’s hard and angry. He’s mad. I hear him huff and move away from the closet. Back out into the hall. I slowly let my breath out. He didn’t see me.

  There is a pounding sound and he’s in the closet like a rabid dog. He’s ripping the clothes off me and I feel his hands, strong and hard, grab me by the arm and leg. I scream and he drags me brutally from the closet. My head smacks the frame and I see stars. He picks me up like a toy and flings me into the air with an angry grunt. I fly across the room, hitting the wall like a rag doll. I fall on top of my now broken desk, my face against the wall. Taste blood in my mouth. The jagged wood pinches, pricks and punctures my skin and I cry in pain. I try to roll off the broken wood but he’s right there with his boot. It impacts my back right at the base of my spine.  I hear and feel something pop.  I scream a guttural cry. My entire body is now electrified by pain. I feel everything and it all hurts. Oh it hurts so bad! Oh My GOD it hurts! “Help Me!” I scream. “Someone please Help Me!”

  “Good,” He yells loudly.  “Scream and cry all you want.”  He’s so angry. “No one’s coming to help you.”
I feel his hand on the back of my neck. His mouth comes down to my ear, his breath is hot and heavy.  “You’re mine you pathetic piece of shit!”  His voice is cold and full of hate. He hates me! 

 He hauls me to my feet and slams my head into the wall. My skull on the drywall makes an impact crater and the bits fill my eyes and mouth. I feel my legs give and I’m falling. I hit the floor on my back.  I look up and see his leg coming forward in a kick. I try to turn my waist but he hits me right in the side. Stars appear again and I feel something come up into my throat and I spit it out. I look. It’s blood. Something broke inside me. My liver or my stomach. Maybe my kidneys. 

He kicks again and again. I can’t see anything, but I hear the impacts of his boot against my skin. My body goes numb. I feel the impact but I can’t feel anything. I lose count of how many times he kicks me. He stops and crouches by my face. I feel a slap against my face. 

  “Wake up you bastard!” He’s so angry. I feel his spit fall on my face as he yells. “I’m not done with you!” 

 He pulls me up to my feet again.  I can’t stop him. His hands are now on my throat. Squeezing. He pushes hard and my back hits hard against the wall. My eyes go wide as he cuts off my air. I reach up to his hands trying to pull them off. I’m too weak!  I meet his eyes. I see his face for the first time clearly. 

  NO! H-How...HOW can this be! He’s. HE’s! IT'S MY FACE!! ITS ME!!

The face I saw in the mirror. Without all the bruising and the blood. My Face. The memories flood back to me. Yesterday and the day before. The relentless beatings. Everyday for weeks he comes here and beats me. Keeps me beaten and broken so that I can’t heal.  I remember.....I remember why.  Why he’s doing this. I remember.  I Remember! Oh God! OH GOD!

Fury fills his face! His lips form a harsh snarl. “I’m going to make you pay for what you’ve done you filthy, Disgusting, BASTARD!!!” His yells fill my ears. He hits me in the face with his closed left fist while he holds me up to the wall with his right. It hits me and I feel the skin give. I know the bones in my jaw and cheek are cracked or broken.
  “For all the ones you’ve hurt,” he yells! “For all the lives you’ve ruined!” 

He doesn’t stop. He’s pounding my face again and again. “You’ll pay forever you Son of a Bitch!”  

My teeth fall free in my mouth. The blood and drool flow out of my mouth, a tooth catches my lips. He stops. I can see his face out of my right eye. He isn’t tired. He’s breathing hard with rage but he’s not tired.  He releases with his right hand. I gasp for oxygen. His knee flies up into my groin and I pitch forward in a loud grunt. I feel the blood and teeth fly out of my mouth in a flood.  

 His right fist hits me in the back on the way down. More blood and something else fly out of my mouth. It all hits the floor in a splash of red. I land face first in the pool of red. It’s hot and wet.  I can’t see. I can’t move. I feel everything and nothing at all. I hear him cross the room and the squeak of a door moving. Then the sound of something metal scrapes the floor.  I try to open my eyes. Tears flowing and mixing with blood. I opened my left eye enough to see him standing over me. A long metal softball bat is in his hands. 

His grip on the handle is tight. His face is stern. He’s looking down at me with satisfaction and finality. He raises the softball bat in both hands. Moving a leg back and bending his knees.  It’s above his head. His fingers are squeezing the handle tightly. I want to raise my arms but they won’t work. My legs want to run but they aren’t responding. I try to speak but can’t. All I hear is my throat gurgle and gasp.  I hear his voice.

  “You won’t hurt anyone else ever again.” The metal bat plunges down at me.

There is a metal clank and my eyes open. I stare down at the cuffs on my wrists. The chains between them clinking. The chains stretch down to the cuffs on my ankles. I look at my hands sitting on my knees. The bright orange of the jumpsuit I wear is lit up by the fluorescent light in the room.  It's a small room. Nothing on the metal walls, just a mirror on the wall opposite me.  No bruising, no blood, only the marks from when I was finally arrested for my crimes. The horrible crimes that I was helpless to stop. The metal chair is firm and I start to straighten myself up. The numbers printed on my chest are black and clear.  I blink to myself. “I deserve this,” I whisper to myself. “This is where I belong.” I close my eyes and take a long deep breath through my nose, straightening my back. The air is cool and crisp in my nostrils. Holding the breath till I’ve rolled my shoulders and felt the cuffs cold metal pull on my wrists. Then I let the air out in a long slow breath. I can’t feel it in my head anymore. The voice is finally silent. I pray IT’s finally dead and I am free.