Slap

Slap

She touched her face where he hit her

His lips lifted at the corner, no pleasantness in his eyes

His hand lay open at his side,

Hatred filled her up as the stared down at the shag carpet,

Her ripped jeans clung to her full legs

Lifting her head, she ran a hand through her thick hair, not looking at him

He tottered to one side,

The beer screwing with his mind

She turned around and headed for the door,

He made a gruff sound, not really audible

His hand reached her shoulder before she made it to the door

A swift pull and she was turned toward him

Before she could do anything, his disgusting, wrinkled hand had hit her again

Slap

Now her face was red and swollen

His screams were silent to her,

The beer on his breath stunk in her nostrils- undiluted and raw

She couldn’t hold it any longer

A swift kick to his shin and he was down,

The beer making his balance almost non-existent

She grabbed her dead mother’s fur coat, the girl’s favorite possession

Her converse-covered feet smacked the steps and then pavement as she

Jogged down the street

She ran all the way to the park

Choosing a nice swing to sit on until dusk

By the time morning came, she couldn’t cry anymore

Tracks of red lined her face

As she splashed water on it by the fountain nearby, she pulled herself together

Besides, this wasn’t the first time

Nor would it be the last

School would start; she’d sit at the back of the class

Just another day in her life

She wasn’t going to cry on the bus. That was for sure.

She was tough. Tougher than any other girl she knew.

People were afraid of her

The only thing keeping her together was her friends

They stuck by her

Not a lot of people knew about her father

Didn’t care about the chubby girl in the back of the class,

With the ripped jeans and the converse

Do you know her? Would you want people to care?

Regret

The tears splay down my face,

Stain. Burn. Fester.

The result of the awful days and long nights

I ask myself, is this what was supposed to happen?

Does everyone hurt this way?

“Sometimes”

He answers me

He says, “Will you be okay eventually?”
At the moment, I just don’t know. Will I be okay?

Good question.

I close my eyes

The images are burned on the back of my eyelids

The blood, the sadness, the slight insanity in my mother’s eyes

A car, flipped. Another crunched between others, madness in every direction

Stretchers sat waiting

Others wheeled away, lumpy bodies covered in perfect white sheets

People in uniforms walking through the crowd- some running, yelling, whispering

Blankets around survivors

The feeling of the cold curb under my butt, numbing away some of the pain

Bodies dragged out of wreckages, explosions

Crying beyond me because everything I had to lose was already gone.

Some time before

The eyes of my brother next to me in his blue beater, flipped upside down

Hanging from our seatbelts

I watched as he looked at me with those shining blue eyes,

Blood masking his perfect face, the steering wheel pushing against his chest

I had pulled as hard as my arms could muster, doing nothing

He grimaced at me, though he couldn’t speak

I knew what he wanted to say

And then he passed, with my arms as far around him as I could muster

And I knew that I just wanted to die with him

Let this be my day, I had said

I pleaded to Him like I had never before

“You have more life to live”

I heard it in the back of my mind, thinking it was God

But then it occurred to me that it was him, my brother, my best friend, my savior

And as they pulled me out of the crushed car, I felt him next to me

A light

Although he wasn’t here, he was here

He wouldn’t leave me like that

Was I going to be okay?

“Without a doubt.” 

I listen As He Speaks

I listen as he speaks

A thousand senseless, convoluted words

Anger coloring them until they are bright red and hot to the touch

I listen to the voice of an uncomprehending man

One that puts a wall up around his wrong opinions

One that puts the blame on everyone or anyone

Around him, to solve the problem of his life

I like it when he smiles. It makes me happy

To think that for some period in time, he is actually happy

Because the lines between his eyes seem permanently etched

In the face of a man who has some obvious demons

And I sit and I listen to the anger inside of him bubble and retch

Until they explode from him onto the woman who has

Stood by, through everything

I respect her, look up to her.

 But I can’t help thinking that I will never let this happen to me

I will not put myself through sleepless nights

Wondering where my husband has driven in a drunken stupor

I will not let a man mentally scar my children

Or myself. She says she loves him. I believe her, have to

Or face the let down of my life.

The beer can, also known as the fifth member of our family

The illegitimate child, the one that no one would ever hear about

The one that some see, but others choose to ignore

Or better yet, excuse away

As it is, I can’t seem to let myself look away

Or leave

I force myself to watch the ups and downs of the parents I love

Hoping with all my heart that I’m not watching

It all fall apart

Deep down, I know it won’t

My mother loves him too much, and would rather not be alone

And I know my father loves her too

But he just doesn’t quite know how to show it all the time

Life would be near-perfect I think

Without that fifth member, the one that my father loves

Dearly, because without it, he feels like he

Cannot cope with the world around him

A worthy companion, one that doesn’t let him down

Not that we have, but someone must have

The cans stack up, higher in the bins

“Why do you drink daddy?” I ask one day

He replies with that certain tilt of the head and a

“It’s a social thing.”

Why then daddy, are you the only one doing it?

He is blind to the reality of the problem

Can’t handle the day to day parenting

That my mother must cope with herself

Doesn’t have the tools necessary to realize that

Life has problems, and you have to fix them

And it sucks, but you do it anyway

And conflict is daily, and just part of life on earth

Not something to get frustrated by

That it’s not okay to break things when you’re angry

Although, I know to be grateful it’s not me he’s breaking

Because I know that others don’t have

The luxury of not being abused

And I’m grateful that I have a dad, and that

When that fifth member is absent

And he’s doing what he loves

He is a magnificent father.

And I love him

But when I go to say goodnight to him

And lay beside him for a moment

Looking into those wise brown eyes

That can’t quite focus on me,

I wonder

Why?

Life's Like This

Hi, my name's Sandra. Today I did something wierd. I decided to make this blog so that someone other than my dog could read the short stories and poems that I like to write in my free time... I like a lot of things to do with nature, and I love to study people. This probably comes across in some of my writing, and I just want everyone to know that most things in the pieces I write did not happen to me, but yes they certainly happened to someone. I would love for people to be more aware about their sorroundings and the people that they may spend time with in their everyday. I wish that I knew what kind of things the people I walk by everyday have to deal with in their lives, because I know that everyone has something. 

On a lighter note, here's some things that I really like,

painting

windstorms

lightning

soft skin

swimming in the mediterannean

hugs

dancing

drinking with friends

dogs

cute boys that let their awkward side show

sunglasses

snow that stays for a day and not months

best friends to give my hugs to 

wrapping paper

safety pins

scrapbooking

my family

my life