It’s raining here. The rain from the tin foiled roof makes loud thumps every second. My baby is crying and I want to cry too. We’re both hungry as we wait for him to get home. He’s our provider, our savior and we are to obey him at every command. I see headlights through the sheer curtains and hurry to the bathroom to make sure I look decent.
My skin is fair but underneath the clothes are purple marks. Marks that he has left. Marks that make me a property. I hear his keys turning and run to the kitchen. He kicks off his hard boots and grunts. I can already smell the intoxication he has bestowed upon the small house. He walks into the kitchen and rolls his eyes. Judging my movements as I cut up the little bit of food we have.
This food goes to him because he is the one who put it on the table. He is the one who deserves everything. I will never be anything more than a server. My sole purpose is to obey him. He yells at me because dinner isn’t ready.
Then pop! That is his hand on my cheek. I’m used to it. I should be more prepared and a better wife. He has the right to do this because no one is going to stop him. I do not want to shame my family so I say I am okay.
Better than okay, I’m fine. He sits at the table. He tells me to get my baby because it is crying. I go to grab my baby. He yells for me to feed him. With the baby in my right arm and his plate on my left, I quickly place his food on the table. I and my baby share half a plate because there is not much left for us.He tells me it has been this way because I am getting bigger.
We chew in silence. He tells me the food is awful and spits it out and gets up. I never question what he is doing. I know he’s going back to the bars to drink, eat and do other things.
It’s pitch black outside. I’m laying on the bed waiting for him to come home. I’m not allowed to sleep until he is next to me. Finally, he stumbles into the bedroom. The only thing darker than outside is his eyes. I want to run. I want to hide. But can’t. He grabs my face and pushes it down on the bed and I let him do what he pleases. After this happens he tells me he loves me. And sleeps. Even with the blanket on him, he is cold. I want to hold him but he keeps his distance.
I stay for my baby. I stay because I can not support the baby by myself. I stay because it’s the only way I know how to live. I stay because there is a roof over my head despite how poorly put together it is. I stay because the pain is just numb at this point. I stay hoping that one day he will get better. I stay because he wants me, no one else. I stay because I love him, even more than my self. I stay because he says he loves me.
That is why I stay.
October is Domestic Violence Awareness month and although this might have been a fictional story these events happen every second of every day with no limit.