Forgotten

Part 1

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Alexis' POV:

I woke up to the loud sound of yelling and cursing, and pots and pans banging, and being thrown against the wall.

It was Cal, my drug addicted, abusive boyfriend of nearly two years.

'Oh, god", I whispered from under the covers.  I was instantly terrified, because he was in another one of his bad moods, and as usual, I had no idea why.

But, I knew only too well what his bad moods meant.  It meant abuse... physical, sexual, emotional.  It didn't even really matter.  At this point it was all the same.  Pain was pain.  And by now, I had almost become numb to it.

I reluctantly got out of our bed, and made my way to the kitchen.

He was on a rampage and was going absolutely bazerck, screaming, swearing, and throwing things.

"Cal-", I said timidly, barely above a whisper.  "What's wrong?"

He turned to look at me, his face full of rage, as I now became his target.

"You!  You're what's wrong!  As usual, there's not a goddamn thing to eat in this fucking house!"

"I-I'm sorry", I said, trying to defuse his rage.  "I can cook you breakfast", I said, reaching for a pan.

Before I knew what was happening, he grabbed my arm knocking the pan out of my hand and threw me against the wall.

"P-Please Cal", I whimpered, my entire body shaking in fear, as he towered over me.

"You can't have a goddamn meal ready for me, after all I do for you?!"

"I-I'm sorry."

"And we're broke as shit!  And whose fault is that?!" he yelled in my face.

"I-I'm sorry.  I'm trying", I said.  I had just been laid off of from my job, and I had been desperately trying to find another one so we could make ends meet.  But, it was kinda hard to get hired when I had visible bruises all aver my body.

"At least I have fucking job!" he screamed, as he continued to berate me.  

His 'job' was a drug dealer.  And even though it may not technically be a job, it was our only source of income, and right now we were completely dependent on it.  But, the problem was, as fast as the money came in, it went right back out to supply Cal's drug habit, leaving us with nothing.  

"You're a worthless bitch!  You know that?!  Good for nothing!", he yelled.

He raised his hand, and I shook and trembled in fear, as I knew what would happen next.  I felt his fist collide hard with my face, as he hit me over and over again.  I fell to the floor grimacing in pain.  He started kicking me repeatedly in the stomach and head, to the point where I was sure I was going to pass out.

Finally, with the grace of God, he stopped.  And I don't know why.  Because he could of killed me right then and there.  And a part of me wished he would have.  Because I would have been better off dead, then living like this.

I heard the front door slam, and just like that, he was gone, and the apartment was filled with an eerie silence.  

I was grateful.  And, I finally let out the breath I had been holding, because I knew for the moment I was safe.  But, for how long?