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Rated: 18+ · Non-fiction · Experience · #1922344
In order to heal I must first tell. I told him next time would be the last time.
He quickly pulled back the shower curtain. "What do you think you're doing?"





"Um, getting ready for work?" As I grabbed my uniform.



"Well who's going to take care of the kids? I'm leaving"



"Okay, I'll go call work and let them know I can't come in." I dropped my uniform and headed for my phone in the bedroom. Fuck that! I headed back to the bathroom.



We had been fighting, verbally, the night before but by the time I woke I thought all was said and done and it was over like in the past. Guess I was wrong...



I entered the bathroom and picked my uniform back up and got dressed. "Josh can watch them until I get home, you were gonna let him watch them for a few hours anyway so you could go take in your game system."



He turned off the shower and ripped open the curtain. I tried to hurry and leave, knowing what was going to happen next. He grabbed my arm and yanked me back, slamming the door shut again with his foot. "You and that fucking job! It's all you care about! It's all you've ever cared about! I'm not going to babysit your kids anymore, not for free anyway!" He put me in a choke hold and tightened his grip with his other hand. "You're not going anywhere cuz I'm going to kill you, you bitch!" I clawed and dug my nails into his arm, trying to get him to release me. He let go, spun me around and grabbed me by the throat, slamming my head and back into the door repeatedly. "You love that job, not me, like you have always clammed! All you ever talk about is work! You leave me here to take care of your kids, they aren't mine, they're yours, yet I am the one who is always taking care of them, 24/7! Well NOT anymore! You're nothing but a lying, cheating, whore! You BITCH!"



I kicked at him, not able to get my short legs out far enough. I dug my fingernails into his fingers still wrapped around my throat. He let go again and grabbed my arm, twisting it behind my back, still cursing and calling me names. I tried to leave again, hoping if I could just get into the hallway, he'd let go for fear one of the kids would hear us fighting. I got my upper arm out and almost had a foot out when he tried slamming the door again, pulling me back in. I wrapped my leg around the door frame as he continued to pull me back in. I wasn't strong enough. Rather, he was a lot stronger than I. He pulled me back in, spun me and pushed me down onto the toilet seat. While he still had my arm twisted he began hitting me over and over to my head. All the while still cursing and screaming, "you bitch! You're nothing but a cheating whore! All you care about is that job and climbing into the backseat of cars with other men!" He was so angry,so angry. When he screamed he spit and drooled. I'd never seen him do that before. He was like a raging bull determined to kill his prey. I thought for sure this time he planned to kill me.



Then he stepped back, wiped the spit from his chin and said, "I need a cigarette." I sat there, stunned, speechless, and relieved he was done, or so I thought. I didn't have the energy to move. My head was pounding, my throat throbbing in pain. I just sat there. I hadn't uttered a word the whole time he screamed and accused me of cheating. Of course I had never cheated, but it was pointless to argue with him then.



After a few minutes alone, trying to regain myself, I stood and entered the kitchen, looking for something to soothe my sore throat. He came up behind me and I turned around, cringing. He had his phone to his ear and was telling the cab company to cancel my time call for pickup, "she will be running late." He tried handing me the phone and began to tell me to call the police. He begged me to over and over, but I knew it was a trick. He didn't really want me to. He started threatening to kill himself, in the bathroom, where my kids would eventually find him, if I went to work. Like I would be able to at this point...



I refused to take the phone from him. I asked to go the bathroom, I really did need to go. I hadn't been since I went to bed that night. He followed me and I tried telling him I really did need to go. He stile kept telling me to call the police. As I sat down, he turned his back and tried handing me the phone from behind his back, demanding I call the cops or this would be where he'd kill himself. I finished and stood, flushed the toilet and put the seat back down and was pushed down onto the seat. By now all he screamed was the demand to call the police. He begged me, threatened me, and began hitting me in the head and face with his phone. He asked me over and over why I wouldn't call them. I didn't answer. He stepped back and became quiet. I looked up at him ,"can I please have a cigarette?"



He looked at me dumbfounded."Not until you call the cops!"



I asked, repeatedly until he agreed. "Can I please have a cigarette?" He still demanded I call the police even though I refused every time. He let me smoke a cigarette and get a drink. I was hoping that at least the physical part of this fight was over, he seemed a bit calmer. He left the kitchen to get his cigarettes in the next room and I dialed 911 on his phone. He came back just as they answered and he pushed end call. My heart sunk all the way to the floor. I thought for sure I was in for round two. The phone rang and he answered, "yeah sorry my two year old had my phone and accidentally called you. No, everything is fine here, it was just my son," he explained, laughing, trying to be convincing.  He set the phone down on the counter, "they'll be here soon I imagine." He almost looked too stunned. Whatever, it worked, he was calm. I went into the bedroom and sat in my chair, taking a deep breath. Is it over?" I asked myself, then told myself, it's over." He hung around the entrance to our room, looking like he wanted to talk, but he didn't. I was thankful, yet I was pissed, but I said and did nothing.



He finally sat down and he told me to go ahead and go to work, he'd watch the kids till I got home. I looked at him in disbelief. "I can't work now! My arm is fucked. I wouldn't be able to do anything."



"Well go to the hospital then." He was so calm, so damned calm. It pissed me off, but still, I said nothing, I did nothing.



He kept looking at me and telling me to do one or the other. I refused them both.  He finally stopped speaking. He was holding our baby daughter when he looked down at her and told her he was taking her and her bubba to the living room to hang out. I didn't argue. I was going to get the cops out here one way or another, sometime today.



"You need to call work then," he said as he walked out to the living room.



Perfect time. I was shaking as I grabbed my phone and looked under contacts for my co-worker. I hurriedly sent her a text, "call the cops for me, plz." Then I dialed her number. She didn't answer, but immediately called me back, frantic. I had to lie, he was standing next to me at this point. She asked if I still wanted her to call them, "yes" I told her and hung up. Another co-worker called me then and again I had to lie, but as soon as he turned his back I text-ed her that yes he had beat me and I needed the cops. 



I joined him in the living room, hoping he wouldn't get suspicious, and waited, and waited, and waited.  Finally I figured they weren't going to call them for me and I gave up waiting and went to feed my kids breakfast. The cops pulled up then. He saw them before I did, I was at the back of the house. He jumped up and went out to the cop. I came back to the living room and he was already there and no cop in site.



"They gone already?" I asked.



"Yes, and you need to call work. Someone named Williams is the one that called. I don't know what you said to her but they called the cops. Call them back and end this before they are back out here again."



I went back into my bedroom and grabbed my phone, shaking. I called them back and since he didn't follow me, I explained what was going on and asked them to please send them out here again. They agreed and I hung up and rejoined him in the living room. "They were just concerned, but they won't call again," I explained to him. I sat down and waited, again. Twenty minutes so so later, the cop was back. This time he entered the house and asked to speak to me, in private. It was over. He was going to jail. I told him the last time he hit me, "next time will be the last time," and it was.



It took two hours to write my statement and get photographed. It was hard trying to recall the timeline of everything that occurred, but I did as best I could. He's being charged with bodily injury to a family member and interference with an emergency call. I have a protection order in place for me as well as my kids. He won't be coming back into my home to do it again. I have bruises all over my legs, arms, back, throat, and head, but nothing broken... not even my spirit.





I told him the last time he hit me, "next time will be the last time," and it was.







© Copyright 2013 Shh...whisper, new poem! (midnitewhisper at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/1922344