Tuesday, June 29, 2010
This time it's more of a scramble. I'm slightly disoriented but this is a normal saturday afternoon after all. Oh yeah, I fell because he had grabbed my ankle to slow me up. My speed was obviously bothering his leisurely amble after me.
My nails are digging into my hands, I am breathing so fast and quietly like by hiding my breath it will hide me from him.
And now we play the waiting game.
The blood is drying and falling on my lips. It tastes of Iron it's disgusting like a scab.I close my eyes. I eliminate my sight I heighten my hearing senses, or so the theory goes. He is always two flights behind. He gets bored. He takes up smoking. Goes back to the NFL he records I don't really know.
One shocking shove but I'm still holding strong.
BANG, SHOVE, THRUST, FLING
It takes only two pushes this time. My head hits the wall doubled over my knees that were my safety net. He drags me from the room that perspective is always strange, leaving a room backwards on the floor. It's not the pain physically inflicted that I mind, nor is it the way I am flung down the stairs, dragged down the steps I won't walk, the look on my mam's face as she tries to stop a man twice her size beating her children.
He was the third to know about Johnny V. I guess if you can't beat 'em join 'em.