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Hope, Hate, Comfort and Rage.(Closed)

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Hope, Hate, Comfort and Rage.(Closed)

Postby Skylar on Mon Sep 22, 2008 10:43 pm

Hope.

That little ray of light that you hold onto so feverishly that everything else can fall to hell, so long as you aren’t alone in the dark.

“I can’t find any damn work clothes.” His voice was like a knife through the house. She rolled her eyes to herself while in the other room. “I just washed some yesterday sweetie, check in the dryer.” It wasn’t a good enough answer, this, she already knew. “You know, I don’t ask for much around here, clean up a little bit, and make sure I have some fucking clean clothes for work. I work 60 plus hours a week, and you work what? Oh, that’s right, part time. It must be nice to sit around and do whatever the fuck you wanna do, while I bust my ass every night.”

She wondered if she listened to the tv close enough, if it would drown him out. Again, she knew it would not. In front of the television he would stand, while buttoning up his work shit. “Look at the kitchen, those dishes haven’t been washed in days...DAYS.” So dramatic, she wondered if he ever listened to what he said. “I just washed them last night, those are just from lunch and dinner today. I’ll get them, I’m just not feeling very well.”

God, it bubbled inside her. The hate. The rage. Yet, even so..she managed to keep a sweet tone, trying to calm the beast she was waiting to see. “Whatever, it’s always the same shit, if I wanna see it done, Ima have to do it myself.” Her eyes caught his...could he see it? Doesn’t matter, he doesn’t care.

His words however, made her think. When was the last time he did anything beside go to work, come home, or belittle her? Blank. She hated him. Hated the power he possessed to turn her into someone she hated. Someone that hated. Tears burnt her eyes, yet she refused to let them fall. “You’re gonna be late for work.” A gentle push, to get him to leave, though she knew even if he did leave, he’d just call, bitch, hang up on her, call and bitch some more....and that pattern would continue all night long.

Comfort is a bitch. A malicious bitch that stabs you in the back once you convince yourself all is well.

The door slammed, and everything in the living room rattled. She exhaled the breath that she held for what seemed like forever. Though, it had been forever, or at least, the past 7 years. She shook her head, wondering what she was doing this all for. It wasn’t for herself, that was for damn sure. She eased off the couch and went to the bathroom to wipe her face with a wet cloth. She didn’t want the kids to come home and see that she had been crying.

Again, the door slammed. She jumped. She knew it had been, too easy. “I dunno what your fucking problem is. I know I’m a fucking tyrant that makes your life a living hell, but you have it better then most.” The look on her face said it all as she turned to him. That was the most ignorant thing she had ever heard. “You’re just arguing for an argument. Just go to work, I can’t take this shit today!”

That grin...that god damn grin....it told her she just lost, and he basked in it.
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Skylar
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