Free SCARRED (Scars) by C.R. Gress Page A

absolutely no way I could have gotten through this past week. They helped us take care of the kids and make all of the funeral arrangements. I couldn’t do it. I have closed everyone out, and built that wall back around me. Greg has no clue how to deal with this. Every day, it seems like we are drifting farther and farther apart. I am not sure if it is me sinking back into that void or if he is pulling away from me. Either way, this has crushed us. I feel lost. I feel dead again.
     

 
     
     
     
    CHAPTER 8
     
     
    Three Months Later
    “I am so fucking sick of this!” I scream as I gather my composure, walk across the kitchen floor, plant my foot and swing, landing a right hook against Greg’s jaw.
    “I have been at work for the last twelve hours and just want to go to bed. I have been nowhere else and the last thing I want is to come home to be thrown around the house being accused of God only knows what. I am done! Get out!” I scream again as I reach for the telephone.
    “I am not going anywhere.: Greg states walking towards me.
    “Yes you are!” I wince as I pick up the phone and dial 9-1-1.
    “Hello, yes, I need help, my husband has assaulted me. Please hurry.”
    Greg tries to take the phone away from me but I slip out of his reach. Giving the 9-1-1 operator my name and address I watch Greg in utter contempt.
    “Yes, I’ll stay on the line.” I know that if I hang up the phone I am in for it. As long as I have the police on the phone there is no way on earth Greg would hit me again. I take the phone with me as I step out on the front porch to wait for the police to arrive.
    While waiting for the police to arrive, I think about where I will go from here. Though I know this is the e nd of my marriage, I am also aware that this will be the end of the abuse; the abuse I have suffered for three years now; three years of absolute Hell.
    A Ω A Ω A Ω
    When I met Greg, he was my downstairs neighbor. In the beginning we only spoke in passing; in the parking lot, at the pool in the apartment complex where we lived; it was always friendly. I was getting over a recent breakup with yet another asshole whose life was even more fucked up than mine. Greg was a single dad who had a little boy about the same age as my daughter who was the only silver lining in the demented playbook that was life.
    Over time we became friends as our children would play together in the pool or at the local playground. He seemed like a decent guy so when he asked me out to dinner one afternoon I thought “Why not?” Over the course of a year our friendship bloomed into a romance leading us into marriage.  That was when the true horror started.
    The night of our wedding, Greg had had way to much to drink which all came out on the way home. When Greg started to argue with me about senseless stuff all I could think was “What the Hell?” It was apparent that Greg could not handle his alcohol, which I had seen at a few parties we had been to throughout the course of their relationship, but this was different. Greg was different and things only got worse once we got home. As soon as we got settled in the house, I received a backhand across my cheek. 
    “What the fuck was that for?” I asked cradling my cheek in my hand.
    “I saw you flirting with that punk at the gas station.”
    “I was not flirting with anyone. I was pumping gas because you couldn’t even stand up, much less pump gas without getting it all over you.”
    “Are you saying I am a liar?”
    “No, I am saying you have had too much to drink and need to go to bed.”
    “Whatever, you can sleep on the couch.” Greg yelled as he slammed the door to the bedroom. 
    It wasn’t long before I could hear him snoring, glad he had passed out so I didn’t have to deal with him the rest of the night.
    Some dream wedding, huh?
    When I woke the next morning, Greg greeted me with fresh cut roses and pancakes. He sat on the edge of the couch and leaned over to kiss me on the