The vile words were shouted at such a high pitch the neighbors banged on the thin walls for their silence. The words were delivered from the heart, full of abhorrence, strife and bitterness joined to send his frenzy hotter. The physical was his reaction to words he couldn’t think to say.
He couldn’t stop himself. His reaction to her outburst came so fast and with so much force that he wasn’t sure at first that he had reached out and hit her. It was like it was happening to someone else. He saw it in slow motion, in a frame by frame pictures.
She had fallen backwards on the floor hitting her head against the hall door. He stood over her was so enraged it frightened him. The words he had shouted at her were still ringing in his ears, burning hot. Words so ugly and vile that he was surprised they had come from his mouth.
She sat there looking stunned, not at him for what he had done, but at their young daughter who was watching things unfold from the corner of the room. Suddenly he was in a tunnel. The only thing he could see was his young daughter sitting in that corner with her little legs pulled up to her chest with her small hands covering her ears as she stared frightfully at her Daddy while she cried. Terror shone in her wet carmel gaze. He abruptly felt a punch deep down inside his gut.
He hadn’t known she was there listening and watching or see him hit her mother. How had he allowed things to get this far, lifting a hand against the woman he loves? How had he put that look on his young daughter’s face, and become his father?
In that moment he remembered the child who feared what might happen to his mother, to him. He remembered them screaming and the fighting, the nightmares and the sickness that always stayed in his stomach.
He had sworn he would never be what his father was; he’d never lift his hand to a woman. He had promised himself that he would put fear in his child’s eyes, like his father had on too many occasions. He had hated his father for striking his mother, had even fought the old man trying to make him stop. Now he was that abusive father in his daughter’s life.
He watched as his wife stood. He reached for her, tried to hold her. He needed to ask for her forgiveness, but she had pushed him way. He watched her go to their daughter and gather her up on her shoulder. He tried to talk to his wife, to plead with her that he wasn’t this man. But she wasn’t listening as she ran across the room. Their child’s tear-stained face staring back at him. He yelled to her that he was sorry, but she was gone. The door had slammed in his face as tears fell from his eyes.
The universe decided to intervene in my life when I happened upon a book, and my world changed to include the written word. Suddenly new corridors had opened to me and I decided to walk through one of them. Now I’m an author, whether I become famous or not, I’m still an author..
Find more of Glynis at http://glynisrankin.wordpress.com/.