It’s been the same bunch of haranguing from him. The same condescending, patronizing hissy-fitting LOUD piss and poison barreling out of his mouth. And as always it does nothing for me but make me panic and flinch and shudder- then collapse from fatigue.
I don’t even cry anymore.
How long has it been? Why do I stay? Where would I even go?
He knows I’ll go nowhere.
Last week during brunch at the country club when he yelled at me for what seemed like an eternity, I began to plot my escape. It was the eyes of the blue-haireds, the whispering of those pretentious uptight boobs sitting there in the courtyard laying their eyes on us, watching him wagging his finger in my face and showering me with his spit and his spite.
I’m surprised they didn’t throw us out!
They should have.
I don’t want him to pay. I want to erase him. I don’t want him to suffer.