As I sat perched on the edge of the window sill I gazed out at the sunset, its crimson and violet rays dancing happily, all alone and shining brightly was the first star of the day. I made my wish easily and without hast “Please let him change, please let him love me, please stop him from hurting me”
Wiping away the warm salty tear with my soft towelling sleeve, the rhythm of the ticking clock was the only sound I could hear. The curtains were shut tight and the lights were off in the neighbouring houses, everyone else was already far away dreaming and safe within their own beds.While I was waiting and praying that he would return home safe.
What if there was an accident? Was he hurt?
What if he had met someone new?Was he going to leave me?
What if he had decided he no longer wanted to come home to me?
The tears fell freely, my mind whirling with confusion and what if’s.
I sat huddled tightly, drawing my knees tighter into my chest, perched still on the cold white glossy window sill, picking away at the dry paint that was beginning to flake away. Making a mental note to buy a tin of gloss paint.
The only light showing came through the small gap of the flowery curtains that my aunt had given us when we had moved in together six weeks prior. The beautiful early morning sky displayed a rainbow of bright colours that I watched in oar. I unintentionally caressed my stomach, knowing of the new life that grew inside me. I had not been shocked when the Doctor had confirmed I was indeed expecting a baby, I had been trying with all my might to make this dream possible. Someone who would love me unconditionally. I needed that love more than I needed water or food and if a baby was to provide that, then a baby I would have.
I was mere a baby myself, aged just sixteen and trying my hardest to live in a grown up world, a world that had thrown many cruel twists and turns in my direction already. A world I had gone from childhood to adulthood so quickly that it almost took my breath away. Life had never held much meaning to me, which was until the day I met him. He was my all, my everything. Standing head and shoulders above me, he was my protector, my voice when I couldn’t speak.
He took me under his wing and cared for me in the way only he knew how. He was ten years my senior and looking back I presume the father figure I was so desperately searching for. But today was to be such a happy day; the day I would tell him he was going to be a “daddy”. My gift to him for taking care of me. A gift so precious, I hoped that it would seal our bond together, making it ever stronger and eternal.
He would beam a smile wider than the ocean and the rush of love he would feel for this new generation would be pure and intense. He would wrap me tightly and tell me everything was going to change from that very moment on, the pain and heartache of the past would disappear into the night sky and the new day dawning would bring only that of happiness and love.
The sound of a car engine drawing to a still brought me back to reality and there I saw the father of my child. The man I had given my heart too, so freely I had given up everything I had for him. I wanted nothing in return but his love for me. I loved him from my heart to the depth of my inner soul .A love so innocent and pure that it frightened me to think I could ever feel so strongly towards another person. He was in my thoughts from the very moment I awoke to being the last thing on my mind as I slept.
There he came staggering from the car, holding the car door for balance. He was very much intoxicated. Certainly driving home from a night filled with pints of cold frosty larger and the odd Bacardi and coke had taken its effect. Where were the Police? Why did the Landlord serve him more? They all knew he had to drive home, was it to just prevent him causing a scene? I heard the sound of the key fumbling to open the lock on the door , then the heavy, unbalanced footsteps climbing the stairs which lead up to our bed-sit.
He flew into the room with such force the door hinges’ moved, as he fell onto the old torn sofa which lay pushed tight against the back wall. His legs dangled lifelessly. The double bed on the far side wall took up most of the space in the room. The lonely wardrobe stood to the right of the bed and the table which housed the TV to the left. We didn’t have much in possessions but I was grateful for what I had. My heart felt I had it all, I had found my soul mate and we had recently set up home together. We were to live happily ever after.
The smell of alcohol soon filled up the tiny room and it made me feel quite nauseated.
“Where have you been? It’s 5.30am and you said you would be back hours ago” I had asked
Fuelled with a mixture of alcohol and disgust that I had dared to question him, sent him spiralling out of control. He lost all senses; rage and anger blew into a volcano and ruptured before my very eyes.
I was dragged from the edge of the bed, where I had been sitting by my long dark hair, feeling it being ripped by the very roots and found myself on the cold hard floor, the carpet burnt my knees as I was dragged from one end of the room to the other, luckily the room wasn’t too large and I only received surface open cuts.
The soft white dressing gown given to me by my father as a Christmas Gift, with the teddy bear motif on the pocket, flapped open revealing my naked body. The cord I realised was being pulled tighter and tighter around my throat. It was cutting off the air supply; I could feel my thoughts drifting away. I was going to die. My hands instinctively raced to free to my throat and help my breathing continue. But my vulnerable strength could not compare with that of his fuelled rage. There was no contest to who would win. He always did.
I woke with a heavy aching feeling and saw him sleeping soundly in bed, the duvet cover pulled tightly up under his chin. He looked like an angel, sleeping, far away dreaming of a magical world filled with love, hope and mystery. While I lay shaking violently next to him, filled with confusion, dread and fear. In my confused state I finally fell into a light sleep.
I awoke sudden and startled, to find his eyes glaring at me through the dressing table mirror; those eyes piercing every inch of flesh, tearing at my bones, wrenching my body into spasm. It’s as though they could see and hear every accelerating pulse. I try to hold my breath to deny them knowledge of the blood pumping faster and ever-raging through my heart. I sit as still as I can, in a vain attempt to control the violent tremors that wrack me, yet those eyes keep on searching.
My brain reels in confused panic as I search for a solution. But there is none. My head feels heavy and the seething pit of my stomach twists and convulses in violent bubbling commotion. Yet those eyes are as still and transfixed as my own.
Then from the corner of my eye, I see a bright orange and yellow light, glowing brightly in the dim lit room. He sits motionless with a box of matches. He strikes one and uses his two middle fingers to catapult the lightened match across the room, in the direction of the curtains. He misses the target, so strikes another.
This time his aim is precise, there is a little smoke but no flame, he looks disappointed. He then turns his attention to the bed in which I am lying in. In one almighty move the mattress I am lying on is overturned and crashes onto the floor, I land with a sudden thump on the floor next to it. He stands at this point and reins down blow after blow with his fists, both clenched so tight the knuckles become white. I feel nothing. He returns to the dressing table stool and sits back down so calmly.
Then I see another glow. Magically the glow dances as I watch, mesmerized until a burning sensation stings my bare leg brings me back to reality. My dressing gown is ablaze. In that wild moment of panic, my eyes scream at those in the mirror for help.
They stare back at me, empty, vacant and fixed open. Open so wide that all I can see is the hatred. They just keep on staring. Time stands still for me. The blaze unhindered by my fears, strengthens. My mind won’t register that I’m on fire but I know I am going to burn right here – and those eyes are just going to stay there and watch.
How can it be? Those are the eyes that I once fell so madly, so completely in love with. How can they be the same? They, once upon a time, were filled with such love, what can make eyes turn to such hatred?
“Don’t ever question me again” He states calmly as he walked out of the room, just leaving me there all alone and burning.
I lost our baby two days later. I thought it best that I keep the pregnancy and the miscarriage a secret as I did not want him to blame himself. After all he was the one who went out to work an brought home the money and supported us both. What gave me the right to be angry that he had decided not to come straight home after work.