Page 15 of Shattered Dreams

His hand slid up into my hair, and he yanked me to my feet. “You got another man calling?”

“No.”

“You cheating on me?”

“NO!” I yelled in his face, feeling satisfied, but braced for the repercussion.

His free hand came up and flew across my face. “Bitch, don’t you yell at me!”

John let go of my neck and that hand came across my face the other way before he turned and grabbed the phone.

“Hello? … yeah, she’s here.” He grumped into the receiver and held it out to me.

“Hello?” I heard my voice tremble and looked up at John. His eyes narrowed and the next words barely register.

“Mom’s not doing well, sugar.” My dad’s soft voice fills my ear.

Tears trickled down my cheeks. “What did the doctor say?”

“It won’t be long.” He choked on a sob. “I’m meeting with hospice later today.”

“Oh, Daddy.” I dropped my voice low. “I wish I could be there.”

“You ready, yet?”

I knew what my dad was asking, and I shocked myself as I answered. “Yes.”

His voice was barely audible. “I’m sending something so you load up my grandbabies and come home.”

I cleared my throat. “John’s off work and he needs me here.”

“I knew somethin’ ain’t right.”

I stayed silent and watched my husband pace the kitchen like a caged animal.

“Is he as mean a S. O. B?” My dad’s voice gets gruff. “Like Parks?”

“Yeah. A lot of parks.”

John ripped the phone from the wall and whipped me with the cord. “What the fuck are you saying?”

“Johnny! Stop!”

“I told you, bitch, you don’t tell me what to do!” He slammed the phone into my head, dropping me to my knees.

Throwing it to the floor, he stomped out of the room, and I crawled over to the table to help myself stand and then waddled to the bathroom.

Johnny’s been drinking all day and since this wasn’t his first outburst, the boys went outside as soon as the yelling began. I check under the table and when I don’t see the baby; I breathe a sigh of relief.

Looking around the small house, my heart fell. I’m over this house. With the heat that doesn’t work right in the winter. The window units that can’t keep up in the summer. The flooring was trashed and cracking. We couldn’t use one bathroom because of plumbing issues.

I’m done with being beaten and seeing my boys hurt.

I couldn’t suggest or ask John to fix anything, and with his stellar work history, there’s no money to call anyone out to fix it.

Going home to my parents felt like a failure.

Then again, this doesn’t feel like winning.

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