I remember.I remember his face as he hit me again and again. Slumping to the floor I see him reach for the knife.Blinding agony courses through me. Several times I feel the knife slide into my body. Somehow it feels like it’s his right, he’s my husband, my lover, he has the right to do this to me. But why does it have to hurt so much.I see his foot swinging towards my face, inching slowly forward, I can see every little detail of the tread of his shoe, see the tiny piece of gravel stuck just under the toe of the shoe. His shoes moves so slowly as it approaches my left eye, I want to move out of the way but there’s too much pain. As his shoe connects with my eye I see a brilliant flash of multicoloured lights, then darkness.Later I feel the floor under me, pain, can’t concentrate, why am I still alive, why is the phone ringing, why so much pain.The next time I felt the floor under me I could feel someone moving my hair, tender fingers touch my lip. A face moves up to mine, it’s. After she had packed her bag, she set off to the coat rack, grabbing her coat and slipping it on over her blouse and skirt. She zipped it up all the way to her neck, and put her arms through the strap of her bag, letting it hang loosely off her shoulder. She stamped her time card and left the office on foot. It was a fairly chilly night. The moon was full and the streets were dull. Jenna always hated working late. She hated that she had to walk home so late. She knew it was dangerous, she always carried peperspray in her bag and a small pocket knife for protection. But, she wished she had put the two in a special place because knowing her luck, one day she’d need it and it’d be at the bottom of her damned bag under all the makeup and electronics. Three blocks later, Jenna was at home. She peeled off her coat and placed it on the rack by the door. She then slipped off her shoes and socks. She retired to her room and peeled off her clothes along the way. She lived alone, its not like.
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