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Fic: The Story of Alice as told in 30 Parts: Part 4 - Enough
Title: The Story of Alice as Told in 30 Parts: Part 4 - Enough
Fandom: Original
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
wook77
Rating: PG
Warnings: mentions of abuse and domestic violence
Wordcount: ~760
Summary: She's had enough.
A/N: I'd started this series through a community that has, unfortunately, been deleted. There'd been 30 prompts and I'd planned on telling various stories of my life in them. I'm still continuing, regardless of the deletion. Posted in honor of Mother's Day because my mother is the strongest woman I know. If I can be half the passionate, amazing, strong woman that she is, I will count myself blessed.
The broom comes down across her back, lightning fast and just as strong as thousands of volts of electricity. Its force slams her into the pantry cabinet, her face impacting as she hadn't had time to turn to the side or even brace at all. Her forehead hits and splits open, blood trickling down her face and into her eyes. For a moment, she thinks that it's a good thing that she stopped wearing contact lenses as the blood would probably have completely blinded her. But then her glasses dig into her nose and cause cuts, too.
She'd like to think that she thinks of her kids at this point, as the broom comes down across her back again, but she doesn't. All she can think is that blood is dripping into her eyes and across her face and covering her tongue. All she can think is that all she did was refuse to cook dinner or forgot to tell him his parents called or had she said something about his parents? Maybe she'd commented on how much he'd been drinking lately. Whatever it is that's set him off, she refuses to contemplate taking it back. In fact, she refuses to contemplate taking this beating ever again.
She pushes off the door, her arms shaking with effort and adrenaline. Turning, she grabs the broom before it crashes down on her again and she pulls it out of his hands (him at least eight inches and about a hundred pounds on her), snarling as she does so. She tosses the broom off to the side and then stalks into the bedroom they share.
She's not proud of the way that she's just left her kids with a madman that's also their father just like she's not proud of the way that she's left that same madman beat them again and again. She's not proud of any of it. Her mother must be crowing in glee, what with the poor opinion that the woman had always had of her. Her father, though, he'd be so disappointed in her before turning to his wife and whispering, "Snacky, you were right."
She can't face the way that they'd be looking at her. She's angry that they hadn't helped her as their father beat her but they're only ten and thirteen. They're not much help to one another let alone to her. There's not much anyone can do. It's all her fault, this entire series of suffering.
No more. No more beatings. No more diatribes. No more lectures. No more feeling puny and useless and downtrodden. They're getting the hell out of here.
When her husband comes in, crying and apologizing, she accepts it. They go to bed that night, stiff and silent and bitter. In the morning, he goes to work and she stays behind. There's no way that she can hide the bruises or the blood. She starts to pack, just little things that he won't miss. He's so busy drinking and hiding in the basement that he doesn't notice anything amiss.
A week goes by. Then another. And another. Then she calls Alice into a room and explains the plan. Alice agrees and they start to pack, little by little. The boxes are marked "TG", it's Alice's way of saying that these things were "to go".
They go looking for apartments, her and Alice. Alice likes the brown ones that are two stories and within walking distance of a grocery store. It's just out of her budget but she decides that the way that Alice is smiling is worth it. They sign the lease and go to buy a sofa , a television and a dining room set. She puts it all on credit cards that are in her name only.
There isn't much money. In fact, there isn't any money but that doesn't stop her from buying a little, white, four door hatchback. It's used but who cares? It's a mark of safety and freedom. It's in her name alone, too, and that's important.
The week before the deadline date, she and Alice tell Alice's sister about the move and ask her if she wants to come along. Alice's sister says yes and they pack up her things.
On July Fourth, as fireworks soar overhead, they pack the car and drive down the long, overgrown driveway. She refuses to look back and see the monster that used to be the man she'd married. Her back's to him and, this time, she isn't giving him the opportunity to bludgeon her again.
As always, I'd love to hear what you thought.
Fandom: Original
Author:
wook77Rating: PG
Warnings: mentions of abuse and domestic violence
Wordcount: ~760
Summary: She's had enough.
A/N: I'd started this series through a community that has, unfortunately, been deleted. There'd been 30 prompts and I'd planned on telling various stories of my life in them. I'm still continuing, regardless of the deletion. Posted in honor of Mother's Day because my mother is the strongest woman I know. If I can be half the passionate, amazing, strong woman that she is, I will count myself blessed.
The broom comes down across her back, lightning fast and just as strong as thousands of volts of electricity. Its force slams her into the pantry cabinet, her face impacting as she hadn't had time to turn to the side or even brace at all. Her forehead hits and splits open, blood trickling down her face and into her eyes. For a moment, she thinks that it's a good thing that she stopped wearing contact lenses as the blood would probably have completely blinded her. But then her glasses dig into her nose and cause cuts, too.
She'd like to think that she thinks of her kids at this point, as the broom comes down across her back again, but she doesn't. All she can think is that blood is dripping into her eyes and across her face and covering her tongue. All she can think is that all she did was refuse to cook dinner or forgot to tell him his parents called or had she said something about his parents? Maybe she'd commented on how much he'd been drinking lately. Whatever it is that's set him off, she refuses to contemplate taking it back. In fact, she refuses to contemplate taking this beating ever again.
She pushes off the door, her arms shaking with effort and adrenaline. Turning, she grabs the broom before it crashes down on her again and she pulls it out of his hands (him at least eight inches and about a hundred pounds on her), snarling as she does so. She tosses the broom off to the side and then stalks into the bedroom they share.
She's not proud of the way that she's just left her kids with a madman that's also their father just like she's not proud of the way that she's left that same madman beat them again and again. She's not proud of any of it. Her mother must be crowing in glee, what with the poor opinion that the woman had always had of her. Her father, though, he'd be so disappointed in her before turning to his wife and whispering, "Snacky, you were right."
She can't face the way that they'd be looking at her. She's angry that they hadn't helped her as their father beat her but they're only ten and thirteen. They're not much help to one another let alone to her. There's not much anyone can do. It's all her fault, this entire series of suffering.
No more. No more beatings. No more diatribes. No more lectures. No more feeling puny and useless and downtrodden. They're getting the hell out of here.
When her husband comes in, crying and apologizing, she accepts it. They go to bed that night, stiff and silent and bitter. In the morning, he goes to work and she stays behind. There's no way that she can hide the bruises or the blood. She starts to pack, just little things that he won't miss. He's so busy drinking and hiding in the basement that he doesn't notice anything amiss.
A week goes by. Then another. And another. Then she calls Alice into a room and explains the plan. Alice agrees and they start to pack, little by little. The boxes are marked "TG", it's Alice's way of saying that these things were "to go".
They go looking for apartments, her and Alice. Alice likes the brown ones that are two stories and within walking distance of a grocery store. It's just out of her budget but she decides that the way that Alice is smiling is worth it. They sign the lease and go to buy a sofa , a television and a dining room set. She puts it all on credit cards that are in her name only.
There isn't much money. In fact, there isn't any money but that doesn't stop her from buying a little, white, four door hatchback. It's used but who cares? It's a mark of safety and freedom. It's in her name alone, too, and that's important.
The week before the deadline date, she and Alice tell Alice's sister about the move and ask her if she wants to come along. Alice's sister says yes and they pack up her things.
On July Fourth, as fireworks soar overhead, they pack the car and drive down the long, overgrown driveway. She refuses to look back and see the monster that used to be the man she'd married. Her back's to him and, this time, she isn't giving him the opportunity to bludgeon her again.
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