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Lost a day due to study on my writing assignments and making changes on my web site. Changes coming soon now I have decided what niche I want to deal in. Let you know when the changes are made.

Abuse, No matter what kind is dished out it is still abuse. The two I'm talking about is mental and physical abuse. Everyone has their own way of dealing with each case depending on how severe, and how long this has been going on. Do you notify the police of what has happened? Do you go to the doctor for treatment? Do you go to the hospital? Do you tell members of your family, or close friends, of what you have lived with? Or do you just try to put this behind you, believe he, or she, won't do this to you yet again, after a promise has been made to never do this again. The other case is the doer of the abuse closes out what has been done, asks you what has happened. You stare in disbelief that someone can blot out the terror which you suffered. Terror that will not leave your life. A terror that keeps you waiting for the next time. Or do you take your family to a safe home where you are out of danger?
Me, I didn't have too many options because I couldn't see, I don't mean that I'm blind, the reason that I couldn't see was because my face was so swollen my eyes wouldn't open. Before I explain how, and why this happened, I am telling you I do not drink any type of alcohol because when I was 20 years old my liver was damaged through a long illness, and being sick every time I became pregnant. To this day, I still can't drink any alcoholic drink, now can I eat food which has been cooked with wines or spirits in it.
Doom day came one Saturday. My husband still smarting because I had made sure I'd never fall pregnant ever again. The house we were renting had had major repairs to make it a larger, more safe to live in, the bath and the kitchen joined on to the rest of the house instead of being separate with a passage way from one to the other.A celebration was set in action by my husband, I slaved all day to make finger food for those who had been invited.
To be NICE, I'll call her the bike lady, because her and her husband were mostly on a motor bike. Not that I have any thing against people who ride motor bikes. Just this couple. Very secretive A mystery couple. She was half dressed most of the time with not much left for you to imagine what might be hidden beneath. The husband, partner, or whatever he was suppose to be didn't seem to have any pride in what she did, even when he was around. Turning a blind eye when her knew what might happen. Did he hope to gain from letting her run loose?
So that is what she did at the party. The more she drank the more she hung all over the men, even my husband, who didn't even try to push her away when she slobbered all over him in front of everyone. They even disappeared out side at the same time which looked suspicious to everyone but the husband. That's when the rest of the people decided to leave. From some snide remarks I let him know I was happy. I stood at the fridge where I was stacking in food left over. Another snide remark came my way and I grabbed a bottle of beer from the fridge and smashed it on the floor. That is when he exploded to see his precious beer spread all over the floor, bits of glass spread everywhere.
He stormed toward me and began slapping me across the face, open palm on the swing one way, and the back of the hand collecting the other side of the face on the way back. I was so stunned from the force of each blow. He kept swinging until I dropped to the floor in the middle of glass and beer. If I hadn't I would have been bashed to death. He spun on his heels, walked from the house, got in the car and drove away leaving me there, the children asleep in their beds.
I sat there in a heap on the floor until my ears stopped ringing, crawled toward the wall where I knew there wasn't anything in my way to where I needed to go. I followed the wall. gently slipping my feet along the floor to avoid broken glass, reached for the wall of the bathroom where I went in to strip away my clothes to shower by only feel, I couldn't see. I took a wet face washer with me when I made my way to the bedroom by following the walls, dressed, crawled beneath the covers, placed the washer over the top half of my face to help with the stinging. I must have slept because I didn't hear him return, or come to bed.
The next morning he came to see why I hadn't gotten out of bed to take care of my children, lifted the face washer to witness the damage to my face. He had the hide to ask me what had happened to me.
Did he care? Did he offer to take me to the hospital, or doctor? Did he stay home from work to take care of me? NO!!!
He went off to work even away over night. I had to feed, bath, clothe the children, and make sure they didn't escape the house as I wouldn't have been able to go searching for them. To be able to see what I did I had to force open my eyelids with my fingers. Even had to do the washing by feel. Had to put the clothes in the dryer because I couldn't find the clothes line. For three weeks I worked like that until I could see enough to drive the car. With sunglasses on I went to the chemist to ask for something to bring out the bruises. He wanted to know where the bruising was and I lifted the glasses and the poor guy nearly fainted. Wanted to know if I'd seen a doctor, or been to the hospital. I just shook my head. He could see persistence on doing so wouldn't work.
I had only one option. Suffer through what had happened and keep my mouth firmly closed. The moment I opened it to tell what he had done more blood would have been shed by family members doing to him what he'd done to me. If I'd told and he went to jail, they would have been waiting for his release. I'd have been left with no family and a dead husband. I didn't want any of this on my head so I have kept quiet until now. Most of the family who would have punished him have passed on. By me keeping what I knew quiet, he never knew when I might crack to tell on him. His life would have been full of wondering if. Me, I became a stronger person to carry on with my life.


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