This is not a submission for the SSSC.


WAITING BY THE WINDOW
*********************

Rain pelted the window from the storm outside. She sat in her usual chair,watching the storm. From the street outside, she probably appeared as a statue,always fixed in place. The rain running down the glass,would hide the fact that tears were also streaming down her face.She did not sob, or cry out.Just stared at the street outside, transfixed by the water, the cars driving by,and the thoughts in her mind..
For years she had sat there,always waiting.Waiting for him to come home.Early or late.Sober or drunk.The longer the wait, the more she cried.The more she knew what would happen when he came home.
Past now,but she still sat by the window,unable to shake the habit,or the memories.
She looked down at her arms for a moment. The bruises long gone to the sight of anyone else, yet she could still see every single one. Her reflection in the window, showed every mark her face had seen over the years, and her eyes,every sleepless night lost to the torment of his rage.
She pulled the blanket up closer, feeling a chill as she remembers the night the police came to the door on a night such as this.
There had been an accident.Front end taken off the car he was driving.Before he could even finish, she was sobbing uncontrolably, and laughing hysterically at the same time.The officer trying to calm her, believing she was distraught with grief, not knowing what she was really feeling. Relief.
Then comes the call from the hospital.Minor injuries . He would be coming home after all.

The darkness of the moonless night could not compare with the darkness in her mind.Memories are truly a hell of their own.Sometimes to relive the pain over and over is worse than real life.
She drifts off to sleep,and dreams of birds, flying away.Flying so high over everything you can barely see them.Oh, to fly so high...to be so free!
Startled awake by a door opening, it is him, going from his room to the washroom.Quickly but quietly, she creeps up to her own room, not wanting to meet his gaze or answer to him why she is still up so late.

Hiding under the covers she openly sobs now.Wondering how she ever let things get this bad.And why was it all her fault? Why was everything she did wrong?

Nightmares gripped her again.
His voice screaming, her body cowering, her stomach swollen 9 months.
The knife in his hand.He grabs her hands and places them on the handle,blade towards him,holding her there so tightly she felt her bones would break and pulling the knife closer to himself,while she pulled back,all the strength she had , forcing the handle deep into her own stomach.His attempt, failed, he pushes her down on the floor.She lands hard, her water breaking and pain shooting through her instantly.
She is screaming back at him and crying.
He walks out the door, not even listening.


Opening her eyes, it is morning, and she realizes she is still in the nightmare. It is constant. No difference between asleep and awake.Outside the rain continues, just like the tears inside.

Someday...just someday...perhaps there will be no reason for tears.

You definitely capture that woman's inner soul in your story AccessDenied.
Saddly it's all too real and it appears to be more prominent now days.
There's no excuse for drunken and Especially Abusive Behavior. Some may just get their kicks out of it......I don't know. Many women are in a position where they have no way out. A divorce may be her death sentence. A young woman here was in that exact situation, as the woman in your story. She filed for a divorce and her husband hunted her down, and shot her 9 times in the head. The D.A. said, "It was the most horrific crime scene he's ever witnessed!"

Again, what can I say your writing is excellent. Too many people live in their paper doll worlds....... They either ignore or don't believe this unhuman like behavior exists. Your story pretty much tells it all.

MountainStar, I write what I know. Like Lexion, as seen through my own eyes.This was written as a story, but it is truth.My truth.
That is why I was able to put "her" pain in the story.It is mine, that I will carry forever.
I wrote it, wondering if there were others who have had an experience with an abusive man.
I could write a dozen stories like this, and not run out of material.
MountainStar, you are right, too many people live in paperdoll worlds, while the rest of us watch them through the window.

I had a gut feeling it was about you AccessDenied. I'm so sorry. This story should be topped at the ATS. I've never been with an abusive man,
although I have had many experiences in my life. The worse being the loss of our son in 1999. So, I do understand pain. I'm probably many years your senior and your right the pain never goes away. I just live one day at a time and keep busy.
I have worked in a hospital taking care of battered babies and was an EMT on board an ambulance. I've seen battered women and have felt their pain. There were times when I felt quite helpless... knowing the woman or girl was just going back, into the same situation. The majority of abuse has to do with women, but I have seen battered men too.

[edit on 10/15/2007 by MountainStar]

I hope you have moved on and that your in a better place these days.

From the crush thread it would seem you are.

MonKey

x x

Wow that really was sad. I really hope you are ok AD. If L can hep you through all you have been through then he is a hero by all means! Stay strong.

AccessDenied quote

Iam assuming of course that is what you meant.

Yes, we lost our son in 1999. He was married and only 26 years old. His death was shocking and sudden. I don't ever wish that dreadful late night call on anyone. Most horrible event, in our whole life.....one that will never be erased from our minds.

I'm sure glad you got some help with your problem AD. My thoughts are with you dear.

That would be the most horrible event I could fathom.Iam truly sorry that you live with that every day.
And as for my help, well, Confidence, courage, and love are all I need...
and yes I do receive that.