Читать книгу This Heart Within Me Burns - From Bedlam to Benidorm (Revised & Updated) - Crissy Rock - Страница 10

A pain like fire ripped across the whole side of my jaw and I became aware of a deafening noise tearing through my ears. My whole body seemed to lift off the ground and, within a split second, I was lying dazed in a heap on the floor.

It didn’t stop there. My husband threw himself on top of my near-unconscious body, raining blows about my head and body. The ordeal only lasted a minute, maybe two at the most, but it seemed like an eternity.

When it was all over, I heard the front door slamming and was overcome by an eerie silence, broken only by my own sobbing and sniffling, and my heart beating as fast as I’d ever known. I ached everywhere. I just lay there in total confusion, aware of some warm, sticky, wet liquid across my face. As I touched it, the liquid oozed through the gaps between my fingers. I cried like a baby until I could remember crying no more.

I fell asleep, and, when I woke again, it had gone dark. At first I thought I’d slept through a nightmare, but the overpowering smell of stale blood filled my nostrils. Whether through cold or shock, I was shaking like a leaf. I tried to get my head around what had happened, and, pathetically, thought for a moment or two that I may have been to blame.

My head was thumping, as if a drum was pounding inside, as I dragged myself on to all fours, and then groaned as I struggled to my feet. I walked gingerly to the bathroom, where I turned on the light.

Who was that girl in the mirror?

Whose was the disfigured face staring back at me caked in dry blood, bruised and battered beyond recognition?

When he finally came back, he acted like nothing had happened. He dropped himself into his favourite armchair and turned on the TV. I stood like an idiot staring at him. He had the cheek to say, ‘What are you looking at?’

‘Have you seen my face?’ I asked in astonishment.

‘What about your fuckin’ face? It’s still as fuckin’ ugly as when I fuckin’ married it.’

My mouth fell open. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing and why there were no apologies from this monster sitting before me. Where was the man I married? Had his personality changed, or had there always been an ogre inside him, ready to be unleashed?

My lip trembled and I felt like bursting into tears all over again. I felt I could cope with the physical hurt he’d inflicted upon me, but with those few well-chosen words he’d torn my heart into a million pieces.

I had to get out, had to go… right there and then. I turned to walk towards the door.

‘Where the fuck do you think you’re going?’ he sneered from his armchair.

I didn’t reply. I just kept on walking. Before I could escape, he was up on his feet in a flash and caught me.

‘You’re going fuckin’ nowhere, you fuckin’ slut.’

He grabbed my hair and pulled me back, balled his right hand in a fist and propelled it towards me, catching me on the side of the mouth. I felt my jaw crack, and two of my teeth fell towards the back of my throat. I flew through the air and landed on the threadbare carpet. Lying on the floor, I managed to gather the fragments of teeth from my windpipe and spat them out. As I gazed at them, lying in a pool of my own spit and blood, I heard my husband growl, ‘From now on, you do as I fuckin’ say. Is that clear?’

I whimpered like a stricken dog and apologised to him. I actually fucking apologised to him!

‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘I’m sorry… sorry… sorry.’

Those words still haunt me to this day.