Bruises

She made excuses for him, but she

couldn't hide the bruises on her face. It was sad really to watch a woman so beautiful treated this way. I remember when I didn't even like her. She was stuck up and thought she'll get out of this hell hole we all called home. I believed it she looked like a model back then, but people forget life is longer than you think.
She had her choice of guys anyone she wanted (I think my hate was more envy). And she did a hot guy too, but what else was expected of her damn I really envied her, her life. I often thought skies the limit for that girl with the black long hair and blue eyes. She looked exotic which was quite funny since we were both the same race.

She danced like she was on a stage and she did oh how the guys fell over themselves trying to get her but she caught herself in love with her man. When high school was over and we all went our separate ways I never really thought about her.

She stayed in that hell hole she called it. Started waitressing I heard while I started my first year in college. She had moved out her parents house and went with her hot boyfriend. I heard everything was nice with them (so it seemed). I always heard her talk of being an artist or a writer I think. Then she got married when I started my second year of college. 

And moved into the apartment across from my mom (lol and if you know Puerto Rican women boy we love to listen). She was a pregnant and from what I heard he was beautiful. Maybe you don't have to rich to find happiness I thought. Maybe this was her secret dream to become a suburban wife and have her 2.3 kids as they say. 

Then one day it happened I was in the middle of my third year in college. He came home drunk had a bad day at work and they were making fun of him (I think that's how it went), about being married and could go out every again. Which was crazy cause I had heard he'll sleep with anything with two legs. He hurt so bad he broke her arm. She made her first excuse for him that night, while the cop sat there wanting to arrest him. Asked over and over again are you sure mam he said trying to help her out. She didn't notice that the cop was from our old high school and had loved her all through school, but she was too blind to see.

Fast forward 15 years life wasn't so bad for me. I'm writing like I wanted to. My mom called me a few days ago it was time to come home and drag my mother out that hell hole. She never wanted to leave I was always asking her to. But this time she didn't fight like always and I really wasn't here for her.

You see that last time the guy that I wanted so much when I was young how I wrote poetry for him. Anyway that last time he beat her she couldn't make any excuses, she couldn't protect her two kids, she couldn't scream loud enough. She wouldn't see her son graduate and go to law school, she wasn't going to see her daughter become the great writer like she had wanted to be when we were in high school. No she wouldn't see another day. Cause that last day was her last day.

He had come home as usual all drunk, had lost that good job he had once. Now all he could do were odd little jobs here and there nothing for too long his drinking had gotten out of control he didn't know when to stop. He stunk of alcohol and cheaper hookers, he probably had some kind of disease. He blamed her for always keeping him back. But she was the bread winner even had to pay for a baby sitter cause she never did trust him around their kids. He had went upstairs slapped her awake and began a rant about it being her fault he had no work. Blamed her for getting pregnant and having those kids. He didn't stop beating her till she finally stop moving.

The funny thing was he went to bed like any other night never thought maybe he'd gone too far. My mother who I later yelled at went in the house even she knew the routine. She thought it'll be like it always was he'll fall asleep and my mom would help her clean up the mess and the mess on her face. She would always plead send him to hell, put him in jail and go. But she never listened thought this would never happen. But what my mom had walked into was something all together different there on the floor stood the young girl she had come to love as a daughter you couldn't even make out her face. She looked small and broken my mother told me later. She rushed and called the police and there the guy from high school who had never married thinking one day she'll leave. He had to be the first one to see.

There our high school prom queen, the one with all the dreams could've been anything was dead. And sitting now I'm sitting here at her funeral as I looked around she seem to have had a lot of friends why couldn't any of them see. Didn't they care enough about her the ones she always called her best friends. They looked like they had stayed in the neighborhood. Couldn't they see the bruises on her face, arms, and legs. 

I cried for her. For the loss that we could've been friends. For all the times my mom would tell me what was going on and I didn't care. For envying her enough not to. I cried for children I didn't know she didn't have family. I cried for all the women that live in these types of situations and yet they stay. I cried for all the kids that get hurt. And I thanked my mom for helping her with what little she could do. I took those kids raised them right with my mom and husband they were old enough to understand but they knew my mom and knew they'll be safe one 14 the other 7.

A PIECE OF ADVICE:

• If you need help get it.
• If you need a true friend we're out there. 
• If you need to know where and what to do go to your local police station they'll help. 
• No one has the right to hit you get help before this becomes your story

                                    

This story is fictional, but women go through this every minute of every day