Crouching in the corner of the room between the door and the wall. My hands scrunched into my hair near my eyes trying to drown out his screaming. I’m crying now, tears streaming down my face as he bends down towards me and his face so close to mine I could smell his breathe. It smells like tobacco and weed with a hint of alcohol. He grabs my hands and pulls them roughly from my ears, “I want you to listen to me, you’re a useless pile of dirt!” he screams right into my ear and I flinch away from him.
He stands up straight now, pacing the room laughing out loud as he hits his hands into his head screaming as loud as he can. My eyes are closed tightly. I don’t want to see him. The mere sight of his fury makes me coil into a ball. Rocking back and forth on the ground I start scratching at my wrists, “Why do I always do this?” I say over and over again. He must hear me because he rushes towards me grabs my wrists and yanks me into a standing position.
“Exactly, you started this! You should have just shut your damn mouth and let me leave but no, you can’t even do that.” He spits in my face, pushes me down onto the bed and grabs me by the neck. He doesn’t squeeze tight he just sits it there as a warning that if I spoke again he will squeeze tight until I pass out. “Just shut up. You wanted me home and you got your wish now didn’t you. Is this what you wanted?” his face bent over me hand still wrapped around my neck. He pushes down restricting my oxygen flow for a few seconds before releasing me and starts pacing the room again this time he starts rolling a smoke.
As soon as he gets off of me my hand flies to my neck as I struggle to breathe in as much oxygen as I can fill up my lungs. I look back on the last hour and shake my head. I start crying again. I’m home alone, no one will save me this time. I look up as he lights his cigarette. I debate whether I should tell him to stop because I know that if our housemate found out he was smoking in the bedrooms she will go crazy at him and it’ll provoke him to hurt me more. He stares at me like he knows what I am thinking. “Don’t even bother, no one is here. No one will tell me to go leave.”
He grabs the knife he keeps in the bedroom and points it at me, “You think you can stop me? Because you damn well can’t. I’m stronger than you remember. You may be a fat useless pig but I’m faster than you.” He’s waving the knife around in the air before placing it back down on the bookshelf next to him. He’s laughing menacingly at me, “All I wanted to do was go to the skate park and smoke with my friends but you just had to start a fight.” He’s glaring at me know, taking in the last of is cigarette before butting it out on my study desk and chucking it on the floor. “You’ll clean this up yeah?”
I nod knowing that if I said no he’ll just hurt me. I’m rubbing my red raw wrists and he looks at me with a murderous look in his face, “Why the hell did you do that? Bet you’re going to tell everyone I did this to you huh?” I quickly shake my head but that wasn’t good enough because he raises his hand and it collides with my face. The sound of skin hitting skin echoes throughout the bedroom. The blow to my face knocks my head to the side and falls slightly.
My hands fly to my face to protect it as his hand flies back and comes down to hit me again but I block it with my arms. He grabs both my arms by the wrist pushes me down onto the bed and pins me. “You’re a stupid bitch.” He says laughing menacingly. “Why would you hit yourself in the face?”
I’m start crying again and he puts his hand over my mouth. “Oh shut up will you. You’re safe here with me.” I bite down on his fingers and he pulls his hand back and punches me in the face. I hear the bone near my eye crack beneath his fist. He gets up quickly and looks at me with surprise that mirrors my own. He’s never hit me with a closed fist before. My hand is covering my face as the door to my bedroom flies open. I see my sister run into the room and grabs me as two uniformed officers come in behind her forcing him down onto the floor. His face is squashed into the carpet, the officer handcuffs him while the other helps me up off the bed and escorts me downstairs to the lounge room where I see a group of uniformed officers and paramedics.
I sit down and the paramedics fuss over me, they ask me questions about how I’m feeling and if I think anything is broken but I’m not even listening. To my left I can see an older man talking to an officer with my sister standing with them listening and when I look to my right I see him being escorted down the stairs. He looks at me with regret and tears streaming down his face.
The way he looked in that moment broke my heart. He looked remorseful and scared but at the same time I knew in my heart he didn’t care about what he did to me, he cared about the idea of going to jail. I look up at him one last time and tears fall down my face as I start crying, my sister comes over to me. “It’s over.” Was all I could say before collapsing into her arms. It wasn’t sadness over him being arrested. I was crying because I no longer had to live with a man who resembled a monster from my worst nightmares.