Flightless Bird

Burning

I could hardly wait to start work the next day, and I raced to the cafe to tell Watson immediately what had happened. He celebrated, pulling a personalized cake from the case and forcing me to take it home as a final treat. Though I knew this job was what I had wanted for so long, I could not stop myself from missing the work I had at the cafe. I knew though, that no matter what, I'd be welcomed back here if things should go wrong at my new job, and that reassurance alone left me feeling content for the first time in years as to where my life was heading.

Before I knew it, the clock above the door chimed six, and I knew I had to leave if I wanted to get home in time to make Samuel's dinner. I solemnly said my final goodbyes to Watson and my manager, before making my way home again.
- - -

Crossing the threshold into our shabby apartment, the sound of then TV informed me that I still had some time to prepare the food before he got up. I rushed around the kitchen, still in my heels, trying to use what little food we had left to create something that would satisfy his appetite, but all I could find was some left over spaghetti and some white bread.

Thinking quickly, I heated the pasta and added  fresh sauce to it from the can in the cupboard, making a mental note to stop at the store on my way home from work. I  buttered the bread and fried it in a pan with garlic, before plating it all and placing it on the table.

Samuel entered as soon as I began to clean up the remaining dishes, pausing to stare at what I had made him. His eyes snapped to mine, his face contorting into a loathsome scowl as he stepped slowly towards me. I backed up, my back hitting the counter's edge as he approached.

"You little whore," he seethed. "You spend all day, pouncing  around with who knows what, dressed up like the slut you are and have the audacity to give me THIS bullshit for dinner? How dare you feed me this garbage! There's not even a single meatball on this rubbish! You pathetic, insolent little brat!"

As he spoke, Samuel got closer, so close that his spit flecked onto my cheeks, before he gripped me by the hair and yanked me towards him. "How dare you act like some haughty whore and think I'd accept it.  You're worthless!" He hollered, releasing my hair as I whimpered and grabbing my arm instead. I was too weak to fight him off, and he slammed my shoulder into the still-hot burner. 

I screamed, breaking his rule of silence and crying out as searing hot pain spread from my skin all the way to my bones. After what seemed like ages, he let go, though it probably was only for a few seconds. Tears poured from my face as he continued to scream at me, throwing my body to the floor like a useless rag doll.

I was pathetic.

Samuel slapped me so hard across the face, successfully shutting me up before he shoved me backwards to fully lay on the weathered floorboards. The clicking of his belt sent a shiver down my spine as he stepped onto my back to keep my writhing body from running away. I was blinded by the pain, which heightened as the first whip came. After about five hits, from which I knew my back would bleed, I could hardly feel my own body for numbness to the stinging fury.

He left my body there, grabbing the plate and another beer from the fridge before stepping over me and delivering a final kick to the chest.

I was left, spluttering and immobile as I fought for breath, eventually giving in to the darkness that threatened my vision.