Joan sat looking out the window of her three bedroomed house, tears streaming down her cheeks.

She was tired and just wanted to sleep, but there was no point. David would be in from the pub soon and would only take her from her bed to heat up his dinner.

The quiet cul de sac where they had lived since they married 28 years ago was in darkness as everyone was sleeping peacefully.

As she looked out through her tears at the stars twinkling in the sky, she wondered what lay ahead when he came through the door. Would he be the jolly drunk or the angry drunk?  She really couldn’t take the angry drunk tonight.

Joan was 51, and the menopause was hitting her hard, her hormones were up and down like a child bouncing on a trampoline, and the hot flushes were really getting to her. Her life felt empty her daughters had grown up and moved out. The lines on her face told the story of her life. David was a violent alcoholic. The violence became worse when their two daughters moved out. She hid as much as she could from them; she loved those girls so much and didn’t want them worrying about her. They pleaded with her to leave so many times, but she couldn’t. She had nowhere to go and no money. She knew the girls would take her in, but they had their own lives and she didn’t want to intrude on them. They didn’t deserve to inherit her problems which were the product of her decision to stay with this man.

She walked into the kitchen to make a cup of tea, as she passed the mirror in the hall she caught her reflection, and thought how old she now looked, her hair just hung with no shape to it and the grey hairs showing through made her look much older than she was.

She sat at the table with her hands wrapped around the cup. She looked at the dinner sitting on the table it looked as tired and dreary as she did.