think of it as medicine

She walked into the apartment and looked at the two people inside. The one that had opened the door and the one walking into the room from the kitchen. They were her lifeline in this place. They were her demon. She entered the room, recognizing and at the same time ignoring the expressions on the two faces.  She did not want their pity. But she did know that they knew what she was dealing with and would give her the few moments of refuge that she sought here. Settling onto the cough she sighed. This was not what she had dreamed of, this was not the happy ever after that the movies and books had talked about. This, was a never ending nightmare. Her musings were interrupted when a wine glass was moved into her line of vision. When she looked up at her brother-in-law he smiled gently.

"Think of it as medicine." was all he said as she reached out and took the glass. The deep reddish colored liquid sloshed in the glass. Lifting it to her lips she took that first sip. It burned, oh how it burned as it went down. The warmth of the wine spread with each sip as her worries were washed away. Several glasses later, each one having been poured with the words, 'think of it as medicine' she placed the glass on the table in front of her and stood unsteadily. Grinning goofily she turned to go. She would be okay now, she had fallen to his level.

Opening the door she looked at the steps before her. In her condition going down safely was going to be a challenge. Swaying slightly she reached for the handrail. Slowly and carefully she moved down the steps, giggling as her own thoughts. One foot went down to the first step. Once it was secure, she moved her other foot beside it. This continued one step at a time all the way down. Reaching the bottom without incident she raised her hands in triumph. Turning, she faced the mobile home that she called home. As she staggered across the large drive that was a communal access for both the apartments and mobile homes she passed a fellow resident. Grabbing her neighbor by the arm she began telling her a joke almost as old as she herself was. Chuckling at her own brilliance and comedic talent she staggered away, ignoring her neighbor's shaking in laughter. Not caring whether the neighbor was laughing at or with her. Nothing mattered at this moment.

Entering the mobile home she made her way slowly over to the kitchen table. Dragging a chair out she went to sit down near the window. Missing the chair she sat heavily on the floor. Laughing at her own clumsiness she lay her head on the seat of the chair. That was the moment the tears began.

how long..could she bear this??

. She watched him from the shadows as he drank. She had long ago quit wondering how one could consume that much alcohol and still be moving. It was obvious that his body had become so accustomed to the alcohol that he had grown immune to its effects. He was well on his way to finishing his second case of beer, he would soon be very mean. She knew, how well she knew what was coming. If only there was some way to hide away until he passed out. But that was not to be.








She watched as he tried again to stack cans only to knock them down, scattering them across the floor. Turning up the can he drained the one he held, slamming in onto the table in front of him. Before she could move back farther into the shadows of the next room he looked up. Spying her standing there his face twisted into an ugly grimace. Trying to stand he stumbled against the table. Sitting down hard, the chair rocked backward, then settled again on the floor. Reaching down into the cooler at his side he brought out his last beer. Popping the top he turned it up. She watched as his throat worked as he swallowed the remaining beer. Bringing the can away from his lips he opened his eyes and watched her, without warning he drew back and threw the can in her direction. Quick reflexes learned from other moments like this had her moving back out of the can's path just in time. From behind the doorway she heard him stumbling to his feet. The sound of the chair scraping against the floor and then the thud of him falling had her moving. Any time he fell he came up inraged and she was always his handy punching bag.







As she made her way toward the window, the only available escape she her the sound behind her. She had heard that sound before, the sound of a gun being cocked. Turning her head to look behind her the hurricane lamp on the table beside her exploded into a thousand shards. Turning away she ran toward the window. It mattered not that they were on the second floor, she had to get away. Before she had taken more than a couple of steps the second hurricane lamp exploded. She could taste the fear, he had pulled a gun on her before, but never actually shot at her. This was something entirely new and terrifying. Reaching the open window she dove through onto the roofthe attached carport. Grabbing a large branch of a nearby fig tree she climbed down to the ground. She was running the moment her feet hit the ground. Disappearing into the darkness of the darkness of the night.







The back yard of the apartment had several trees and shrubbery growing creating a perfect hiding place. Crawling into a space under a large bush she waited and watched. She knew the back door was unlocked as she was the one that always locked it last thing before going to bed. Once he passed out she could get back in. She knew he would never remember what he had done. If he remembered any part of it, he would apologize profusely, swear it would never happen again. He would pleade and cry and promise. And she would accept it, let it go and continue on. She wondered as she sat there on the cold ground, listening to the sound of the night around her how much of this she could bear. How long would she last before he managed to hurt her badly in some way. She wondered now, if he would end up killing her before it was over with. She felt the lone tear, it was all she would allow, as it slipped out and ran down her cheek. She was so far from home, there was no one to help her. How long, could she bear this?















All around us there are people in abusive relationships- if you are one- you do not need to stay. There are places-- there are people who can and will help you. No one is meant to be another's punching bag- whether physically, emotionally, verbally--. Do not let anyone tell you that no one will ever care for you. Do not let anyone tell you that it is your fault that they do what they do. It is not. If you are in danger, if you are in an abusive relationship-- get out, get help. You deserve better, you deserve happiness.



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