The Art of Starting Over

OH s**t I thought looking at the time, I fell asleep on the couch after laundry and forgot to get dinner started. Ritchies gonna be so pissed when he comes home from work and sees no dinner. My body shudders at the thought of what he might do, I have to think of something quick and easy. I waddle to the kitchen and decide on pasta even though we just had some a few nights ago I’m sure this will suffice. You see Ritchie likes things a certain way he likes for me to behave a certain way do certain things, and God help me if I step out of line. When I first met him I thought I had found the love of my life with his charm and good looks standing about 6’3 I thought I found my dream man. He was so good to me at first surprising me with flowers in the school halls before class, taking me on secret dates and adventures wooing me and my parents we were only 17 at the time and so in love. Then he started drinking, I knew he had had a rough upbringing the things his parents did.. they were drug addicts you see and they would allow their dealers to do whatever they wanted to Ritchie in exchange for their next fix . I understood why he wanted to escape reality one nip at a time but when he drank he turned into someone completely different he was angry and mean. He started off just calling me names and I would cry and swear never to talk to him again and he would show up to my doorstep a few days later with flowers, promising to do better, a stupid ploy I always fell for. Then it was the physical things it started small just grabbing my wrists when I tried to leave, pushing my against the wall and making me swear I would never leave him, until the night he threw me across his living room, I thought I was gonna die that night when the air left my stomach. After that he cried and promised to never do these things again kissing me over and over as he drove me to the hospital but making me promise I would make up some stupid excuse for the broken ribs. I told the nurses I had fallen down the stairs, I started getting better with my excuses after that, but it was the first time I had to excuse his behavior. It’s continued like this now for years, a punch here a slap here usually on parts of my body that are covered but I’ve gotten so used to wearing cardigans and sweatshirts. Ever since he knocked me up about 5 months ago he’s been better, at least being careful not to aim for my stomach in his drunken stupors. You’re wondering why I stay, you’re calling me an i***t, stupid. It’s almost like watching a horror movie when the killers right behind them and you’re screaming RUN, RUN. But they don’t. Well I love him he’s the only boy I’ve been with the only boy I’ve loved. I hold out hope he can get better do better and sometimes I swear I see that same 16 year old boy I fell in love with in him. The sound of his truck pulling in the driveway pulls me out of my trance as I put his plate of spaghetti on the table and hurry to open the door. “Hi baby did you have a good day at work?” I ask in a sweet voice, he looks at me disgusted then mocks me in a stupid voice rolling his eyes. “f*****g no do I ever? Does anyone ever why do you ask such dumb f*****g questions I swear sometimes.” Ritchie grumbles walking towards the dining table. “Wowww Spaghetti again you lazy b***h real f*****g creative couldn’t even go get chicken or something.” He almost yells the last part and I jump, I can tell by his demeanor he’s about 4 nips in. He picks his plate up and throws it at me and grabs his keys. “I’m going out clean yourself up you stupid fuck.” He pushes me down on his way out and slams the door. I pull my knees up to my belly and sob. I hate this I know I have to get away I have to, I cant do this anymore.