Concealed Scars

  He grabbed her by the throat as she sat on an armchair, dragged her across the room and to the bathroom. He threw her into the bathtub as he bashed her face over and over again with his fist, striking her with his belt as she bled profusely. He turned on the shower and left her to drown in her own blood mixed with lead contaminated water. It wasn’t the first time he had done it. Just last month, they were out attending a get together with a dozen of friends, when she suddenly opened up a debate about dos and don’t’s in a marriage, that had pissed him off but she couldn’t tell at the time because he had become a great actor, always having to act like he was husband of the year. It was getting late so they said their goodbyes and headed home and as they pulled up on their driveway, he parked and got out of the car abruptly. He then came hurriedly to her side opening her door as he dragged her off pulling her by the hair. As they went in, he grabbed the first object his hands could reach and smashed it into her face, it was a rose flower vase. There was so much blood gushing down her face as she looked into his eyes, there was no sign of remorse, regret or pity. He looked back with his wicked eyes, tempted to raise the other hand on her but she soon faded into oblivion. She woke up the next day same place she had passed out drenched in her own dry blood, he didn’t care to move her talk less of cleaning after himself. Nonetheless, she got up to wash herself, ran a hot bath to get rid of the excruciating pain or at least lessen it and put her make up on. It was business as usual for her as she headed off to work with her foundation caked enough to cover up the bruises and the new cuts on her face.