TWO LIVES

      She grunted and then cried out as his fist crashed into her face. “You stupid bitch! I’ll show you who is boss in this house. You never seem to remember, do you? Do you?”

     Stunned, she held her face and slid down the wall to crumple up on the floor.

      “N-No, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything…” Sylvia’s last words ended in a gasp as John kicked her in the side.

      John gave her an appraising look. “I think you have learned enough tonight, not to criticize my habits. And clean up this slophouse!” He ordered, as he gave his plate of half-finished food a toss, and it impacted the wall near Sylvia, crashing into a hundred bits of food and pottery, showering her with the final insult. She lay there and cried in sobbing gasps. He tramped off to the living room to watch the late news, his work done. Sylvia made up her mind in that moment. No more. She could take no more, and it was time to get out. She didn’t care how. She was just going.

      Being a somewhat educated woman, no matter how many times her husband beat her down, she could still think. And plan. She gathered her strength, and, despite a throbbing eye and sharp pains in her side, managed to get the mess in the kitchen cleaned up some.

      “Good girl. That’s what I like.” Her husband said from the living room. She half-crawled into the bedroom, to clamber up on their king size bed, and rest a bit. Then, she began to gather what she could. Her purse, a small compact, a few other feminine items. She could not risk taking his car, for fear of being picked up. She grabbed an overcoat, and finally, carefully opened the back door. The door creaked loudly when she tried to close it again.

      Suddenly John called out, “Where do you think you’re going?” She froze.

      “I’m sorry, I just need to get some air. Be right back, honey,” said Sylvia.