Night: One

My stomach growled. Again.

“..man..that’s smells so good..” I whispered to myself. I rubbed my stomach, somehow believing it would soothe the hunger pains. “Hey!” I yelled. No reply. I hit the button to mute the TV. “HEY?!” I shouted, crossing my arms like I was throwing a tantrum. “WHAT?!” He shouted from the kitchen. I could hear him laughing. “This a*****e!” I thought, springing off the couch, sprinting through the hall like some kind of antelope. THUD! Crashed into the door jam. Righted myself just in time for him to turn and face me, my hands on my hips and a fake scowl across my face. “Yes dear?” He snickered, turning back to face the stove. “Whatcha doin?” I demanded, taking one silent leap across the kitchen to the island counter so when he turned again, I was directly behind him. Both palms propped under my chin, elbows on the counter. I made sure my face was visibly angry. Fake anger, but still. He turned back to the pan he was cooking with and mumbled ” What the hell does it look like?”. Ouch. I straightened. “Oops..” I thought, “I must be annoying him” chewing my thumbnail, I decided to sneak out, annoyed at myself for being childish. I felt something tug the back of my shirt, and when I turned, I was face to face with him. “I was just playing baby” he said, and pulled me against his chest. I breathed a sigh of relief. Scott was by far the best boyfriend I had ever had, and I was already afraid of screwing things up. He laughed softly. “What?” I asked, my question nearly muffled in the fabric of his shirt. “Your hair smells really good” he whispered, burying his face in my neck, he snorted like a pig. “PERV!” I declared, shoving him back, I reposed. Hands on hips. He laughed again, and I softened, smiling up at him. “He really is the one” I thought. He pulled a bar stool out for me at the counter and I sat, heart swelling with happiness. He walked around the counter, back to the stove.” I’m making us fried chicken babydoll” he says, turning to the side and tilting the pan for me to see. “Oooh yes!” I clapped my hands, ” you must have a movie in mind?”.”Yep” he replied, turning back to the pan of chicken.” It’s a surprise, but I heard it was supposed¬†to be funny”. The grease popped. “Want to make some potatoes?”. I hopped off the stool, and headed to the fridge. “Sure. You want some milk too?” I held up the gallon of chocolate milk over my head for him to see. I scanned the fridge.” Baby?” I asked, moving containers from shelf to shelf. “Scotty?”..nothing. I glanced over my shoulder. He was standing, facing the stove, head down, hands by his side. I turned, worried. “Scott?” I asked softly. His left hand twitched, and he seemed to shake himself, as if he was daydreaming. ” Yeah…make those potatoes I like” he mumbled, as he started back to his cooking. I turned back to the open fridge, grabbing the container of milk, I shut the door and moved to the cabinet for a glass. “He must be tired” I thought, setting the glass on the island. I filled it and returned to milk to the fridge. “You want some milk too?” I asked again. My back was facing him the way the kitchen was set up, his back was facing me too. Silence. “Was work that bad without me?” I asked, sipping my drink.

Silence.

“Potatoes..” I heard Scott say. I froze, glass chin high. “What the hell?” I whispered, bringing the glass down to..

I lost all feeling. My body was numb, but I was frozen in place. The ice cold glass slipped from my fingers and crashed to the counter, breaking. Milk splattered the counter. “Why…” I wanted to scream, but no sound escaped my lips. My ears rang. A high, whining noise that drowned out all ambience. My skin. “What’s wrong with my skin?” I thought. I moved my head with great effort, to look down.. my skin..it was..moving?Tears sprang to my eyes. No, wasn’t moving. I blinked into focus. My skin.. sizzling. Bubbling. Angry red welts sizzled into groups of blisters. Across my shoulders..I felt light tingling. Numb. The back of my arms..”my skin?” I whispered. The shrill ringing in my ears..I couldn’t hear myself. I moved my hand to the back of my neck, feeling bumpy wet rough texture. My fingers stung. My hand..I looked. Hair. Clots of bloody hair entangled in my fingers, dripping with hot chicken grease. Pop! The ringing suddenly stopped, and the noise of the house filled my ears. Sizzling. My skin was cooking. I screamed. Screamed as hard and loud as I could in terror. Pain shot through my body. White hot searing pain. Radiating with sure force I couldn’t pinpoint the location. Just pain. Everywhere. Screaming still, I jerked around to face the stove. Scott stood. Staring at me. Blank. The pan that had held boiling oil for our meal, grasped in his hands..still dripping. I choked, bile in my throat blocking the air. My skin.. God it stung. “Scotty?” I whispered in horror. “Wh..” He swung the cast iron pan at my head. A flash of red, then black. My ears rang again. Why couldn’t I see? I forced my eyes open. Scott stood over me, the pan dripping..with blood? He raised the pan over his head. “NO BABY PLEASE!!” I screamed..a flash of red again as the pan connected with my face. I heard a crunch, and something flew down my throat, choking me. I gagged, turning my head to spit on the floor..a tooth. My teeth. Something dark flew towards me. CLANG! He’d hit me again, the heavy iron taking my vision from my left eye. I vomited, blood gushing over my face and dripping into my mouth. I can’t breathe. “I’m going to die” I thought. I used every ounce of my strength to turn my head, to see the love of my life standing over me, staring. Blank. My throat gurgled, silencing my scream as Scott raised the pan above his head once again, and the flash of red as it rushed towards my face.

I jerked awake.Sweaty. Entangled in my bedsheets. I glanced at the clock, panting. 2:26am. “UGH!!” I shouted. Wiping tears from my eyes, I swung my feet to the floor. “I’m so stupid” I whispered.To nobody. I live alone. A tiny apartment. Not even a boyfriend. Alone. I flung myself back onto the bed and closed my eyes. “No more of that s**t!” I declared to the silence. “Please no more…”