I squeezed and scratched and searched, only for a breath of air.Laying on that dirty tormenting couch, because I was subjected to it. I could have dogged his fist 2 seconds before it landed on my feeble face, haha! if only I had 2 seconds freedom of movement. He never misses a hit. He foreeeeetells my every position. Why wouldn't he? it's his daily task. The blows and slaps, and the kicks? Gradually, I was falling apart. "Hey darling, u r soo beautiful", became "bitch get u ugly self outta my face".Yes, I am being called a bitch, 24 lazying hours a day. 7 days a freaking week. All year round the clock.Oh! U think that's the worst part? Wait till I tell you how this well mannered, loving, gentlehusband of mine appreciates my daily efforts in that godforsaken kitchen he built to imprison me. Imagine a living chicken thrown in a 100 degrees water. Yes, that is how I feel when my pot of soup betrays me by landing on my face , night and day. Although, not intentionally, but it betrays me.

Look at me. Just take a good look at me. My once *every man wants to see you first thing in the morning, face* now looking like a forbidden art. Art I say? I meant a patched piece of junk. But wait, what about intimacy? Where is my pride as a woman to say no when I don't feel like it? Hell no! Not in that selfish dictionary of his. I have now become a sex addict. You know, I didn't choose to, I was forced to it. I am battered, butchered, spit on, cursed daily. Did I forget to mention that the walls and doors of that prison home screams my name when I'm being slammed on them? Oh I'm sure that they have gotten tired of the bitch painfully caressing them. But TODAY, I refuse. I refuse to be called names. I refuse to be subjected to that couch, taking blows and kicks and slaps of my life. I refuse to be insulted by my own pot of soup. I refuse to answer when called a bitch. I REFUSE. I REFUSE. I REFUSE. I AM A WOMAN. A BEAUTIFUL WOMAN. I NEED TO BE ADORED AND WELL CARED FOR. I NEED TO BE APPRECIATED. I NEED TO BE A GOOD MODEL FOR MY DAUGHTERS. I am a woman of substance, and I am breaking FREE, TODAY.


SOURCE: www.writersandcrackheads..com