Every time I see that butcher knife, my mouth goes dry. I put it at the back of the drawer because it makes me feel better. If he’s noticed, he hasn’t said so. Everything is heightened - the fear, the despair. I have to be even more aware of every thing around me. I’m constantly listening for the car to pull into the driveway. I’m almost afraid to open the heavy drapes but the babies and I need sunlight. Please God don’t let me go insane trying to keep my sanity…
I’ve made his dinner and he’s not home. I finally put the babies to bed because it’s getting late. I put his dinner in the oven and I wait. I consider taking a bath but I’m afraid. Afraid he will choose just then to burst through the door. Afraid of what he’ll do if his dinner isn’t ready, afraid because he can’t clean up because I’m having a bath…what’s to stop him from trying to drown you in that bath… I stay away from the tub.
I hate myself for being afraid. I hate this waiting, not knowing. I hate that my stomach is tied in knots. Is he dead somewhere? I hate myself for wanting that very thing to happen. It’s almost midnight. I’m tired. I want to put the mattress down, lay on my stomach and go to sleep. But I can’t. I’m not allowed to go to bed until he goes to bed. And then he has to be in bed first. We have no lamps and someone has to turn out the overhead living room light. That would be me…
Just after midnight, I remember tomorrow is garbage day and he’s not here to take it to the road. There’s no guarantee he’ll do it in the morning either and I’ll get blamed for that. I put on my shoes and jacket, go out and drag the bags to the road. On my way back, I look over at the other half of the house and wonder how those new kids are doing. That’s when I see his car parked over in their driveway. That’s when through the curtains, I see him slow dancing with Sandy…My head is spinning and I almost fall off the back stairs in my haste to get into the safety of my prison cell. I knew it…I knew it would happen…
I put down the mattress and make the bed. I leave to stove light on and I crawl into bed. I can’t even enjoy the pleasure of lying on my stomach because it’s rotting from anxiety and anger. I jump out of my skin when I hear the car come up our driveway and then I feel like laughing. He drove 30 feet to keep up the illusion. The sounds come to life letting me know where he is and what he’s doing. Finally he crawls into bed and I know that he will not question me or slap me around for being in bed already.
I lie in the dark and think how stupid he is. He could at least have washed up. The stink of her perfume makes my stomach even queasier. He doesn’t want me yet he doesn’t want any one else to have me…He plays around with the little girls thinking he’s not going to get caught again…
And I live with this maniac. I let him terrorize me, abuse me and I live in constant fear for my life…
Maybe he’s right…maybe I am insane…
Next -> In Case of my Untimely Death
Tags: abuse me, anxiety and anger, insane, slow dancing