It was summer. School was out and she was home every day. With him. No one else. Just him. Due to his work schedule, he typically awoke just before noon. He had made it clear that she was to have his meal and iced tea ready and waiting the moment he woke up. He had no desire to wait or to ask for it. She was to be sitting on the floor at the foot of the bed with the items on a tray. The moment she heard him stirring, she was to stand beside the bed holding the tray until he arose. Should there be a time she was not standing at the ready, she would pay for it dearly. She was a quick learner, but he had taken that payment twice already this summer. The bruise on her right hip was healing nicely and she no longer noticed blood in her urine. This meant she typically passed the time each morning reading quietly in the hallway. Close enough to hear every movement he made, but far enough away that her breathing wouldn't alert him to her presence.
Today was a mistake. She knew better. There was no one to blame but herself. Knowing he had been drinking the night before, she assumed he would sleep more soundly than normal. She sneezed in the hallway at 11:20 and didn't muffle it completely. The moment the sneeze was over she knew. She knew she had messed up. She heard his feet moving under the sheet, then the sheet being whipped across the bed. He roared awake and angry. She tried desperately to silently crab-walk to the bathroom before he saw her, but couldn't get her footing. He was coming and he was mad.
He grabbed her hair and yanked her into a standing position. He smashed her face-first into the wall. With his forearm across her back and shoulders, he held her there until he had torn off her clothes. Shredded them. He then leaned in closely and whispered, "you move you die." She didn't move. He let go and took a few steps. Grabbed his belt off the floor and began popping it. She began quivering. God, she hated this part. He would fold it in half, then pull both ends taught until the leather snapped. the sound was deafening - especially since he often popped it next to her ears. He snapped it several times. Enough that her ears were ringing and she was shaking.
"What have I told you about making noise while I'm sleeping?!?! I WAS SLEEPING!!!! he screamed. "You fuckin woke me up you little bitch whore. Who do you think you are?!" On and on the insults flew. Punctuated first by belt pops in her ears, then by the belt on her skin. The first one surprised her. She jumped and squealed as the leather licked her side. Oh!! Her side burned now. And she felt liquid trickling down her leg. She prayed he was in too much of a frenzy to notice. She mewled the appropriate response and cried her apologies. But today it just wasn't enough. He was worked up and wasn't coming back down. Deep in her mind she wondered if the alcohol had anything to do with it.
"Is that ALL you've got to say for yourself?! I"M SORRY?!?! You think that makes it all better?! You're wrong. WRONG!" ...and then WHACK! The belt flew across her shoulders. She pushed her face further into the wall and bit back her screams. He knew the injuries that would raise eyebrows and those that wouldn't be seen. He placed his hits appropriately. The last one was with the buckle end of the belt. She could swear she felt the metal hit the bone on that one. Her composure broke and she crumpled to the floor.
He loomed over her. Circled her like a vulture waiting for death. "Not today, asshole.." she thought to herself. From the depths of her soul, she summoned the courage to reign in her fear. He noticed the change in her, and snatched her up by her hair again. "What do you have to say for yourself now, huh?!"
"I'm worthless. I'm selfish. I allowed my need to sneeze to disrupt your sleep and I can't apologize enough. Please forgive me?" She knew how to play the game.
"Go fix my tea and I'll think about it." He dismissed her with a wave of his white flabby arm. "You make me sick."
She held her head high, squared her shoulders and walked to the kitchen. Earl Gray tea. It ALWAYS had to be Earl Gray tea. With 6 ice cubes and one-and-a-half sugars. Any more or less and you would regret your carelessness. She could make this in her sleep. She reached her hand into the sugar canister and grabbed the plastic bag. She had a special surprise for him.
Last week, when she changed the light bulbs in the living room lamp, she kept them instead of throwing them out. She broke them in a plastic pencil pouch. Each night before she went to bed, she would crush the glass as finely as she could on the kitchen counter. She used the back of a spoon, then used the side to scrape it off the counter into the bag. This week she was adding some to his drink each day. He typically drank 2-3 glasses before he left for work.
She had no idea what the outcome would be. If it would even affect him at all. She hadn't had time to finish reading up on "ingesting glass" in the encyclopedia. All she knew was she had to be smarter than he was at his own game.