Page 3 of Gift from the Tree

“Donald, what the fuck are you doing?” I frantically shouted.

“Shut up, you stupid little slut. You think you can talk to me like that and get away with it?” He snarled in my face so viciously, his spit hit my cheek, causing me to flinch and scrape my face across the concrete.

“I didn’t mean to speak to you that way in front of company. I had a long day and took it out on you. I apologize,” I said emotionlessly, staring through his soulless abyss.

“You think I believe that? You never make anything easy, can never remember your place and to just stay fucking quiet. You’re supposed to be a pretty face and that’s all. But you can’t even do that right. Fucking useless woman. Now you’ve embarrassed me in front of people I need backing me in this election.” His sneer faded to a sadistic smile, making him look demented, evil in the flesh.

I couldn’t get a remark out. His shiny designer shoe collided with my face, sending me off the edge into the pool. I was met with immediate pins and needles from head to toe and the air was sucked straight out of my lungs as my body hit the freezing water. I couldn’t even attempt to move, my body in shock, the weight of the cinderblock sinking me quickly to the bottom.

It was probably only seconds before Donald grabbed a handful of hair at the crown of my head, sending ripples of agony racing across my scalp. Each hair follicle protested the considerable effort it took for him to pull me up with the extra weight.

Trying and failing to pry his fingers from my hair, a deranged laugh fell from his lips. “Let’s see how well those lungs work, wife.”

Dunk. Sink. Hair pull. Repeat.

Dunk. Sink. Hair pull. Repeat.

I couldn’t scream, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t beg. Nothing. So I did what I always do. I sank into my mind and focused on my lullaby that I’ve sung to myself every night, and every time my father, now him, went too far, since I was a child.

Air, Earth, Water, Fire so bright,

Four elements, pure and right.

Air we breathe, wise and sweet,

Earth stands strong, soil beneath our feet.

Water flows, broken and whole,

Fire’s warmth feeds the soul.

Remember these, with joy and cheer,

The elements become one, the world becomes clear.

It could’ve been minutes, hours, I don’t know how long we went through this routine of dunking, pulling up, dunking, pulling up, but finally, Donald had his fill and the last time he pulled my hair, he pulled me out of the water and slung me to the ground. My limbs were so weak I couldn’t force them to work enough to catch myself. I felt my knees split against the concrete beneath my soaking wet pants and my arms trembled as I tried to push myself up over and over.

I could feel his hot breath on my frozen face as he bent down in front of me. “Remember this next time you decide to mouth off to me, wife.”

Coming back to the present, leaving the flashback of last night behind, I put some pep in my step and hurry my ass on out of the woods.

Fuck me, I don’t think I’ll survive another night like that.

Slipping the emotionless mask back on my face, I cross through the last line of trees, pausing to watch as Donald paces back and forth, unbuttoning and buttoning his jacket over and over as his footsteps start creating a path in the grass. He’s dressed in his daily attire, a black suit with a white dress shirt that had to be ironed to perfection or heads would roll.

This is going to go swell.

“Donald,” I say evenly, approaching him slowly like the wild animal that he is.

“What the fuck took you so long? I’ve been sitting here hollering for you for ten minutes now,” he says accusingly.

“It’s my birthday, Donald. I was spending some time on a walk. Like I told you I was going to do when I left the house,” I remind him slowly, calmly.

“I didn’t tell you that you could be gone all afternoon. Now come on, we have guests.” He sneers as he turns, storming off.

Why the fuck do we have guests? We don’t celebrate my birthday, nor do I want to be around any of those fuckers he’d invite over.

I walk six feet behind him so I can watch him closely as we head toward the house. He already has a lean to his walk that lets me know his drinking started early today, and the twitch in his fingers and lips lets me know he also hit something harder.

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