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Thursday, May 17, 2007

Two paragraphs, same scene from different POV

He wouldn’t get away with this, not tonight. I chased him to his pick up truck in our driveway, screaming every obscenity I could think of to the back of his head. The bastard wouldn’t even turn around to acknowledge me. Who the hell did he think he was? He thinks he can just up and leave me with 3 kids, take my car, my house! I was sure he must have been seeing some tramp that had possessed his mind, and other parts, to leave his family. To leave his WIFE! I reached him as he scurried like a rat to get behind the sanctuary of the wheel and wedged myself between the open door and the truck frame. I clenched my fist, pulled back and hit him in the temple with all I had, sending his glasses flying. That first release snapped something primitive inside of me and I began clawing his face in a flurry of manicured nails and shrill shrieks. He barred off my attack by burying his head in his arms, so I started kicking his shins with my steel-toed boots. I slipped on the icy driveway falling hard on my hip. As I scrambled to get up and back to my attack, he closed the door, yelling something about my mental stability, and flew out of the driveway. I stood up, dusted myself off, and headed back into the house, vowing that when he came back to me, and I knew he would, I would make him pay.

He’d had enough, and he had told her just that. The years of verbal assaults and physical violence had taken their toll and it was long past time for him to walk away. He grabbed his work-bag and with a deep sigh, left their home. As he walked towards his truck, something plucked at his heartstrings like a mournful harp: the children. He fought the tears that sprung up at the image of their angelic faces and marched forward through the snow. He tried to ignore her screaming and name-calling as she chased him through the night. He focused on his goal,to get to the safety of the truck, nothing else mattered. Relief settled in as he slid across the upholstered seat, but when he reached to shut the door against the tyranny of her rage, a sharp blow hit the side of his head. In a flurry of manicured nails and obscenities his glasses were torn from his face. He took cover, silently cursing his parents for raising him with the good sense not to hit a woman, and protected himself as best he could. The attack halted as quickly as it had begun. He took a moment to assure himself she was not injured from her fall before slamming the door. He drove off vowing that he would fight to free his children of this mayhem, but that he would never return to his wife’s abusive embrace.

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