Domestic Violence

He awoke to her noisily going about her morning routine. She could never just let him sleep.

“Have you seen my lipstick?” She whined from the bathroom.

He grunted a negative. How the hell would he know where her crap is?

She banged around in the bathroom searching for it. Couldn’t she at least have the courtesy to try and be quiet so she wouldn’t wake him up?

She was tying her hair into a ponytail as she walked into the room wearing her panties and work shirt.

“Oh there it is! Why didn’t you say anything? Silly.”

His heavy eyelids opened enough to give her an empty stare. She continued blathering.

“So yesterday Betty asked me to take her shift on Friday. I was like um, nope. Sorry. Can’t. Obviously she doesn’t remember that I took two of her shifts last week and when I asked her to trade with me she ‘couldn’t’ do it. It’s gotta be a two way street. Sorry. Not this girl.”

She checked her make-up in the mirror. Always too much cover up, he thought.

“So I’m off at six. We’ll have supper when I get home!”

She looked at him hopefully. He looked back blankly.

“You don’t remember? “

He looked at the garbage strewn floor.

“It’s our anniversary!”

His eyes shot back up to her.

“One year honey!”

He glared at her. The angsty gloom in his eyes steadily bubbled into hate, as all his resentment rose to the surface. He began violently writhing in his chair, his screams muffled into primitive grunts.

“Stop it.” She said. “Stop it.” Panic creeping into her voice, “Stop it stop it stop it stop it!”

She grabbed a bottle from the ground and wound up.

She shattered it across his face.

The impact knocked him to the ground along with the chair he was tied to. His arms restrained behind him and fastened to the chair, his face broke the fall.

He lay there for a moment and after a few more desperate lurches he gave up, exhausted. She stood over him and let herself calm down before lifting the chair he was tied to back to its feet. She looked into his eyes concernedly for a moment and wiped off the blood that dripped down his face. He avoided her gaze and looked hopelessly at the ground. She patted his head then turned around and continued on cheerily as if nothing had happened.

“So I’ll be back at six for supper!” She chirped as she wiggled into her jeans. “If you promise not to make a scene I’ll take the duct-tape off so you can eat too!”

The door slammed behind her. He hunched over in his chair and let out sigh. He could finally go back to sleep.