Short Story - Due Tuesday 21st.

'I Didn't Think It Would Happen To Me'


She hit me again last night. With each hit, whack, thump, kick and punch a shard of my self respect and dignity would fall and shatter on the floor.

I didn't think it would happen to me. Why should it happen to me, surely, I'm just like everyone else? If anything, it should be the other way around. I'm the man in the relationship, so why is my wife beating me?

She does it in front of our son, his impressionable mind soaking up each violent action inflicted upon me. I see him standing in the doorway of his bedroom, through my bleary eyes. Stood with the comforting warmth of the yellow artificial light radiating out to me, like a beacon of safety, tempting me in. Even my two year old son sees 'daddy' get beaten up by 'mummy'. He'll most probably think this is normal. He will, won't he? My face swollen, black eyes, broken bones, constant trips to the hospital and a pack of lies.

Lies. That was all I really said, nowadays. I would get asked "What happened?", I always come up with a lie, "I tripped.", "I walked into a door", "It was very icy outside this morning.". I made excuses constantly to my family, friends, colleagues and to my son. I also expected them to believe me. They usually would swallow the lies more than happy to accept that was the truth. They never suspected otherwise. Maybe some thought another man did it, it's unheard of a wife beats her husband. My broken ribs, bloodied nose, fractured cheek bones were evidence of this, but still it wasn't the truth. They were turning the other cheek. A woman beats me. Oh, if they were only to ask me, I would tell them everything . The only thing is, they never asked, so I never told. It was the dirty secret between the two of us. Anyone who would ever ask, she would stand beside me and put on her façade, her camouflage. How did she feel? I could never tell, but I do know I'm not a disappointment. I'm a terrible husband and an atrocious father. On a daily basis, I receive punishment for it.

I receive the punishment for it and can't help but forgive her afterwards she's hurled through her easily triggered anger spell, and realised what she's done. She would cry, make my shoulder damp with salty tears of regret and apologise profusely. It would be followed shorty with a trip to the hospital at two in the morning. A false, cheery conversation, albeit one sided, would take place, I tended to stare out the window, my eyes stinging with pain. The hospital made me breath a relaxed breath, someone could stop this only if they pressed me for answers. Though, they never did, it didn't stop me from hoping so.
Then she'd do it again, and again and again until one day, I would end up in the familiarity of the intensive care unit or worse, six foot under.