I closed my eyes against the hate and rage that were in his eyes, and prayed for mercy, that the first hit would numb my senses to the point that I didn't feel the others. I knew I would be black and blue again by morning, the last set of bruises had been slower to fade than the ones before...and before I could get another thought through my neurons, the crushing sensation of his ham-fist colliding with the side of my head.

I saw stars and splayed my arms out for balance in the inky darkness as I was temporarily blinded by the strike. My vision started to swim back in murky focus and another crashing blow, this time from the other side of my head and it knocked me into the entertainement center. It smashed my fresh injury into the sharp corner and I bounced off, again seeing stars and temporary blindness.

My legs wouldn't hold me up anymore and I fell to my hands and knees and clawed at the carpet to keep from being thrown off the planet by its meager rotation. My eyes were closed because they were useless to me now and I was gasping for air through the pain, but not crying.

No, crying made it worse.

The pain of a fresh concussion radiated from the left side of my face and made me hold my breath, I knew we were far from done, it was best for me just to stay where I landed and not protest. Protesting made it last longer. Screaming made the cops show up, but it was always worse after his mother bailed him out of jail.

I was hit with a size 13 steel toed boot right over my right lung and the wind was knocked from me. I felt the freshly healed ribs break again and I gasped for air out of instinct, not for desire to take another breath.

He pulled back and kicked again, connecting with my stomach and causing me to involuntarily vomit because of the displacement of my stomach. The small dinner of a half chicken leg, stale bread, and old water came rushing back out.

This only enraged him more, and he grabbed my hair and shoved my face in the vomit. "EAT IT YOU LITTLE SHIT ASS! EAT IT NOW OR ITS ALL YOU GET FOR A FUCKING WEEK!" he hissed in my ear.

I still couldn't breathe because of the partially collapsed lung. I still couldn't see because of the concussion. I didn't want to eat. I didn't want to breathe.

He was yelling again, but I couldn't hear past the thunder of my pulse in my ears. I knew I was in trouble, but it really didn't matter what he was saying, I knew it all by heart by now.

Ugly.

Fat.

Worthless.

Brainless.

Hairy.

Disgusting.

Wear a bag over my head.

Be happy he loves me because no man in his right mind would ever want me and treat me as good as he does, I'm just not appreciative enough of his efforts. I didn't work hard enough. I didn't play enough. I couldn't hit the right notes in "Air on a G string".

The table seemed to take a mind of its own as it flipped up and to the side and he was standing over me shouting. I waited for the crashing blow of his hand but my chair was kicked out from under me instead and I was on my face on the cold vinyl floor. Food scattered everywhere. Broken dishes, again. I was laying in a pile of tasteless, textureless chicken and rice.

We'd had it so much over the past few weeks it was more like gruel instead of food. My taste buds were slowly shutting down after eating the same three dishes every day, every meal, for the past two months. We had money for other things, but this was all I was allowed.

A foot to the ribs. At least he missed my stomach and I got to keep what I'd eaten. It would probably be another week or so before I was allowed to eat again. I couldn't remember a time when my belly didn't ache for food, but it was almost comforting now, reminding me I was still alive. I looked skeletal at 103 pounds. You could count all my ribs. The bones in my shoulders jutted fiercely from my skin and threatened to pierce it when I moved. I was still too fat.

I felt like a wall had landed on my back, but it was just his double fisted attempt to get me to give up the five bites of my gruel. I coughed as the wind rushed out of my lungs, spraying the glop my face was in all over his feet.

Rage. More pounding. My nerves went numb and my mind started to drift to the safe place.