My fingers dig into my forearm as I take a step back away from him, ready to leave without anything. Coming here tonight was an obvious mistake.
Brandon sneers at me, making my flesh crawl. “He's been fucking you good,huh?Is that why you were gone for three days you fucking, stupid, nasty—" my breath catches at the racial slur that slides out of his mouth, yet he continues, "whore,bitch?”Brandon curls his lip as he pins his eyes on the apex of my legs, making my stomach drop. “You weren’t even there to perform at the lounge tonight. Guess he was hitting it so good you didn't even want to go to work, huh?”
Oh my God!I swallow, feeling truly sick.
“I’m not trying to fight. I just want to get some things,” I say quietly, inching my way to the hallway.
I stumble back a couple steps, yelling out as Brandon suddenly launches himself from the chair, stomping over to me.
"No, Brandon,no!"I cry out in shock as he knocks my raised hands away and snatches the hair at the crown of my head, smacks me, then pushes me into the wall so hard I bounce off the painted drywall with a pained scream.
"What are you doing?Huh?"Brandon snarls. "Where the fuck do you think you're going? In the bedroom?For what?"
He crowds into my space, completely uncaring while I slump to the floor, coughing and crying in pain. I moan, closing my eyes against the black floaters suddenly obstructing my vision, and bring a hand up to my head to try and stop the throbbing.
“You’re not takingnothing,you whore. You think you’re going to takemythings out of this house so some man canfuck youon it?You want our bed? No, bitch. I’ll kill you before you ever fucking think you can take what you want from me!” As Brandon yells into my face, his spit sprays from his mouth, some getting into my mouth and eye, making me whimper and turn my face away from him as I cower against the wall.
“Please, Brandon, I just want my stuff! You can have the house. I’ll raise the baby by myself; just please leave usalone,” I shout.
I sniff, and my hand raises to wipe the snot that's gathering under my nose as my shoulders hunch up unconsciously to try to protect my face. I scream again as he suddenly grabs my arm hard and hauls me off the floor, throwing me in the direction of the living room.
Thrown off balance, I trip on the area rug. The world tilts, and I cry out when I slam into the arm of the couch. I instinctively twist to protect Bumpy; however, I overcorrect and yelp when I collapse to the side. A flash of pain bursts through my head when I hit the living room table before landing on the floor.
A searing pain rushes through my midsection at the jolt. And as the pain settles deep inside, unmoving, unyielding, I start sobbing, trying to crawl away. Something's wrong. Very wrong. But I can't attend to it because I need to get away from him.
Footsteps sound out loudly as he stomps to where I lay on the hardwood floor. I shiver, trying to shrink away, but this new Brandon is merciless as he hauls me up again and pulls his hand back with a truly evil look on his face.
"Brandon,"I plead, raising a hand in front of my face and trying again to appeal to the man I'd shared my home and body with for the last four years. "You don't have to do this. You don't have to hurt me! Just let us go. Please.Please!"I beg with everything inside me, but it's no use.
My eyes flit from his back to his drawn back fist, feeling adrenaline surging through my body.
My need for self-defense kicks in. I scream, managing to punch him in his face first, although my fist merely grazes his face. Panicking, I try to follow up with my right hand and hit him much harder this time, nailing him in the eye.
Stunned, his lips pull back, and in a move I don't see coming, he shoves me hard in my chest.
In the midst of my screaming, I feel myself fall back into our glass living room table. I have a half a second of awareness as the thick pane shatters loudly before collapsing underneath me, and my body falls awkwardly onto the sharp shards, the trash and liquor bottles, and wooden frame.
My face contorts in pain, fear, and hurt as I cry and lay there stunned. Unable to move.
I don’t want to die. It’s not time.
I sob. Not knowing if I should move, or be still…I don't know what to do.
My body heats uncomfortably as Brandon walks a couple of steps to me with his fists clenched, and his gray eyes flashing with evil. Oh my God.This is going to be the last thing I see on earth.
My heart finishes shattering. The pieces that were held together by adrenaline and hope dissipate as if it were never there to begin with.
“Nooo. Oh God,no. Please don’t,”I whisper, awkwardly trying to shift against the frame and the glass before slumping back down.
The sharp blades of glass dig their way into my skin, layering over the hurt on my back. A cramp burns hotter in my belly, and I sob as I lay here helpless, too scared to move, not wanting to cut myself.
“Fucking bitch, watch where you’re going. Clean this shit up before I get home,” Brandon barks in a rough voice, grabbing his jacket and making his way to the front door. He swings it openand doesn't even close it all the way as he leaves, letting the mid-summer air into the house.
Finally alone, I make a ragged sound of relief as I realize he isn’t going to kill me. Not tonight at least.
Frozen by fear, I lay here moaning softly, crying as I hear his car start up and make its way down the drive. I gasp for breath, my entire body aching as I use the wooden table frame to pull myself up carefully. Wincing and crying out when I feel a slice go into my hip and my right hand as I struggle.
Maneuvering carefully, I manage to weakly inch my way out of the glass before doubling over in pain.
