Deirdre

It had become a daily routine now. He'd drink, come home intoxicated and pissed off at the world and then he'd hurt me.

I tried not to scream or cry to loudly because I did not want to wake the children. The children; the only reason I was still with him. The children; who I sometimes wish we're never born but who I am thankful for as they my only source of happiness.

Our daughter, she knew. I'd never told her but she knew. I could see it in her eyes; the pity with which she looked at me, the anger with which she looked at him and the hurt that was always just there.

I seek solace in the thought of dying, of being in a peaceful state of oblivion where I can feel no pain. It is such a welcome thought that the blows don't hurt as much and the loud, spiteful words are lost on me. I fear, though, that in my absence, he'd just take his anger out on the children. I couldn't let that happen so I stayed. It was all for the children.