Part 2- "A crack in a Closed Door "

ok where was I ...

oh ya the Short story thing I was talking about ....

Ok so a little context I guess before hand - so you don't think I am all depressive and dark ( well ok there is some of that in me but I'm working on it- really) anyway I digress ....

What started as a normal conversation last night ended really deep with a lot of stuff said that I never thought would come out.. Anyway there was a lot of admitting on my end and wishing I could act and begin to defend myself - but in reality stepping into safety - scares the crap out of me- and as much as I want to I cant....here is a story to best describe this feeling I have stuck inside of me.

<A crack in a Closed Door

The room at the end of the hall was small. It had only enough room for two people and a chair at most. The young women looked at that old paint chipped door in fear- she knew what awaited her there. She had been there many times before, growing up little, unable to say anything, to scream for help. Now she was grown- strong enough this time-she was sure - to put an end to the torment of being forced into that dark musky room, and tied to that chair. She hoped this time she could at least see the figure in front of her - the one who took such joy in making her bleed.

She held her breath as the old paint chipped door -squeaked open - she new what that meant - with her head down she slowly made her way into the room - and sat in the chair - she knew the routine - and she also knew what would happen if she tried to fight back - her entire being wanted nothing more then to run and never look back - but she had tried that before - but always it seemed she would end up back in this same old room - it was almost as if there was no escaping it.

As her hands where being tried on the arm rests beside her - she began to brace herself for what was to come next - it would hurt - she knew that all to well - but what was always a mystery was how long it would last - sometimes it was an hour and other times it was days -weeks even.

Instead of looking down like she always had before she looked up - but only a little- so the other person wouldn't notice. As she looked up she saw something she had never seen in that old door before -- about two inches from the bottom there was a crack - not big enough to be noticed right away - but it maybe was big enough for someone who was walking by to see or hear what was going on inside.

The main light was turned off now and a hot swing lamp was turned on over her head- it was bright - it's purpose - he could see what he was hitting but she could not see him -- what he didn't know what she could see the crack - it was on this that she concentrated on.

It began - her head swam as it was knocked to one side- she could taste iron - she knew she was bleeding- she turned to look at the door - *smack* the fist echoed in the somewhat hollow room. But still when she turned all she looked for was the door.

Time had stood still - she had forgotten how long she had been tied to that chair. Her face was tight and swollen and she could barely see out of the slits that were once her eyes - the smell of blood hung in the air she knew she had been there for a long time.

She wanted nothing more then to say 'stop please please stop' - she knew she should scream - maybe someone would hear- but she could do nothing her voice was gone - just like when she was a child - age hadn't changed anything - whether she liked it or not all she could do was turn and take another hit- she knew nothing else - and to her sadly it was safe - she knew what was coming next and she knew how to react to it. It was a distinctive kind of safe - but to her that was all that mattered

One thing was different however - there was a crack in that old paint chipped door...

~~~