The Last Hit

The Last Hit

Why in the word I did just leave was beyond me. I just sat there blood dripping down my face, my ears humming from his last hit, I was a mess. I just sat there looking at the blood. My blood all over, the just moped hard wood floors. I knew I had to get up, If I didn’t get “my mess” cleaned up he’d hit me again. So I picked myself up off the floor and began cleaning. I could see him watching me out of the corner of my eye. Waiting for me to do something the “wrong” way. I’d learned a long time ago that there was only one way to do things in his house. But after a beating like he’d given me that night, I don’t think there’s a person on this earth who would forget. The vigorous smell of the bleach it my nose as my mind wondered back to that night.

We’d only been married for about three months at the time. We had just moved in to our three beds, three baths, and two story ranch house. I had just arrived home after working an eight hour shift at the church fun raiser. It was chilly out, the smelled of smoke from freshly lit fire places. The leaves had already begun to change from greens to dark organs, reds and browns. It had at one time been my favorite time of the year, Seeing all the pumpkins and Halloween decorations. Blake had been working nights as patrolmen at the time. He had a hard night the night before, and waking up to an empty house, had seem to set something off in his mind. I had barely walked in the door when his fist hit me right in the face. I fell back so hard it knocked the wind out of me. I lied there shocked and dazed. He grabs me by my hand to help me up. At first I thought it was ancient, but then the way he yanked my arm and pulled at my body told me other wise. He dragged me further in to the house, my mind was racing, and I was petrified. I remember screaming out to him bagging him to stop. But my pleads went unnoticed. He counted to beat me with his fits, but been a cop he know to stay away from my face. My body was in so much pain, I could no longer tell what part was even hurting. It seemed like hours had passed and yet he counted to beat my body with his fist and ever now and then kicking at me. When at last he just stopped. I must have passed out; I remember waking up in our bed. He was sitting at my side staring at me. My left eye was so swollen from the first punch that I couldn’t even open it. Then he said to me “Don’t ever go anywhere with out asking me first, you filthy little slut. Did you think I didn’t know who you were out fucking? Do you think I don’t see the way you throw your self at all the men. And then he told me to get my lazy ass up and cook his dinner.” He then got up and walked to the door. I lied there unsure if what to do, then he turned back and looked at me and said “I can’t believe how much of a fucking pig you are… If you’d clean this house up you would have never tripped and fell down the fucking stairs.”

I don’t know how much time had passed, as I moped up the blood. I walked into the kitchen and began to clean up the broken dishes and sweeping the rest of the floor. It was late when I finely finished cleaning up the rest of the mess. I really wasn’t even surprised that it had happen. It had been a whole two months cent the last time. As I walked up the stairs to our master bath I heard Blake come up behind me. I picked up my paces and made it into the bath room before he grabbed my arm. He pulled me into his arms and embraced me. He whispered on to my ear. Saying he was sorry and he loved me so much and didn’t know what came over him. That he doesn’t know why I try to make him so mad. I just leaned in to his arms sobbing. He stared the bath water and then undressed me. Kissing me and telling me how much he loves me. But these are all lies I’ve heard before.