Tag Archives: violence

The Struggle Within

The pain that followed the punch was unbelievable, it coursed through the child’s body as every part of him screamed for attention. The boy was hunched over gasping for breath. He shook but not in fear nor in anger but in misery. The being that hovered above him was just a shadow, a huge dark unclear silhouette, which just ignored the boy’s existence.

Determination set in the boy’s shoulders as he straightened and looked into the shadow’s unclear face, managing to fuel its anger again. It jerked and took a step back in confusion before it attacked again with a forceful slap across the boy’s face. Stoic, the boy said nothing as he fell to the ground. Silence descended within the abyss they are in, only the heavy angry breaths of the silhouette was audible.

It didn’t take long before the child became determined again, refusing to be ignored. The child stood but instead of a boy, it was a girl. She sniffled and wiped her tears off her black and blue face, her eyes filled with willpower as she stared into the silhouette’s face. It didn’t take long before it kicked the girl, and her body flew far away before it hit the ground. Her body fell lifeless and the shadow grew restless. It walked around mumbling, unable to fathom what was going on as she began to move and gain her strength again. As she stood her body changed and grew into that of a man.

The man stood and limped his way towards the shadow. When he was close enough he lifted his eyes and stared at its face. The silhouette was already prepared, and the moment the man looked at him, it punched him. The sound of a breaking rib echoed through the abyss, and so did the sound of a screaming man. Groaning, the man’s body began shifting into a more slender form.

A woman instead was holding her side, groaning in pain as she began to roll over to get on her feet. Barely able to stand up straight, the woman looked straight ahead at the shadow. She was prepared for what was to come. It didn’t take long before the silhouette slapped her and punched her till she fell to the ground. Motionless, the woman’s body curled and shifted into a shadow.

The silhouette in anger and confusion screamed, as it slowly dropped to its knees on the ground next to the unmoving shadow. It didn’t want to see them nor acknowledge them. It didn’t want to do this over and over again. They wouldn’t leave it alone in ignorance, because they wanted to be seen and accepted and that is the constant inner struggle that we have within our own abyss.

A Sip of Memory

    She stood above the body, watching as blood seeped through the wounds and creeped towards her bare feet. Her eyes stared blankly at the man beneath her, they dropped to the knife she gripped tightly in her trembling hands. The only sounds in the room were the sounds of the blood dripping from the blade she held.

    She walked slowly towards the corpse, shards of glass cracked beneath her feet as she moved towards the dining table on the other side of the room. She left in her wake bloody footprints, marking every step she took. She pulled out the chair she always sat on, folded her dress the way she was taught and sat down. She laid the knife on the table as she straightened her back and crossed her legs just like he expected her too. She looked at the perfectly laid out dinner, and grabbed the fork and knife cutting and eating with precise movements and perfection. All her movements were exquisitely aligned, a dance of decorum just like he taught her.

    As she ate, she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror hung in front of her. A strange woman stared back, her beautiful yellow dress was stained with red, her perfect bun was a mess, and her make up was ruined from the black smudges beneath her eyes. Tearing her gaze away from the glass, she took the bottle of wine and poured some in a glass. Tears ran silently down her cheeks as she drank, for with every sip she remembered

Sip: the day she decided to marry him

Sip: the day her back hurt and couldn’t wash the dishes and he slapped her

Sip: the day she couldn’t get pregnant and it was her fault

Sip: the day she called her parents for help and it just got worse

Sip: the day he used her as a punching bag

Sip: the day he stopped apologizing

Sip: the day he didn’t stop when she begged him to

Sip: the day she lost her unborn child because he pushed and she fell down the stairs

Sip: the day she ran away and he found her

Sip: the day he locked her in their room for days

Sip: the day she fought back

   She frowned as she stared at the lipstick marring the glass of wine, “fought back” she thought. Her eyes widened with what might have been shock then it quickly changed into a smile. She turned around to look at the body one more time, and when she did she burst out into hysterical laughter, dropping the glass she held, but it didn’t matter, not anymore, because the broken lifeless corpse on the floor was hers.