Scratching Off the Ink
New Home
“OPEN THIS DAMN DOOR!” Frank slurred from behind the door.
Joey kept her eyes trained on the rattling wooden door. She gripped tightly onto the metal baseball bat, but her arms were quivering too much for the weapon to be of any use.
“Joooaaannnnaaaa, I love you,” he hiccupped. “Please, let’s just talk.”
There was hot liquid on her cheeks. It took her a second to realize that they were tears.
He pounded his heavy fist again and again on the weak door. “LET ME IN, PLEASE!”
Someone had to hear him hollering. Someone had to come and take him away. He had been outside her door for fifteen minutes, why hasn’t he given up yet?
“JOANNA!” he wailed. He repeated her name, screaming to the heavens and obviously drunk out of his mind.
With every time he slammed his body against the door, Joey imagined the door popping off its hinges. She imagined Frank with a knife or gun. She imagined him doing horrible things to her.
Things that would make normal girls nauseous.
“Go away, Frank, please.”
He continued to cry her name. After another fifteen minutes the slamming stopped. She heard his footsteps trot away. A sigh of relief escaped her lips. Joey glanced over at the twenty cardboard boxes filled with trinkets, decorations, and furniture.
“Tomorrow, Joey,” she said to herself. “Tomorrow you’ll be in your new home.”
Joey kept her eyes trained on the rattling wooden door. She gripped tightly onto the metal baseball bat, but her arms were quivering too much for the weapon to be of any use.
“Joooaaannnnaaaa, I love you,” he hiccupped. “Please, let’s just talk.”
There was hot liquid on her cheeks. It took her a second to realize that they were tears.
He pounded his heavy fist again and again on the weak door. “LET ME IN, PLEASE!”
Someone had to hear him hollering. Someone had to come and take him away. He had been outside her door for fifteen minutes, why hasn’t he given up yet?
“JOANNA!” he wailed. He repeated her name, screaming to the heavens and obviously drunk out of his mind.
With every time he slammed his body against the door, Joey imagined the door popping off its hinges. She imagined Frank with a knife or gun. She imagined him doing horrible things to her.
Things that would make normal girls nauseous.
“Go away, Frank, please.”
He continued to cry her name. After another fifteen minutes the slamming stopped. She heard his footsteps trot away. A sigh of relief escaped her lips. Joey glanced over at the twenty cardboard boxes filled with trinkets, decorations, and furniture.
“Tomorrow, Joey,” she said to herself. “Tomorrow you’ll be in your new home.”
UPDATE!!!????
1/7/14