I swear it.

Hush, I tell him. Cover your ears with your hands. But it doesn’t stop. The yelling doesn’t stop, Mommy. This is the last time, I swear it. I’m lying on the floor, vision blurry. This will bruise in the morning- A fat plum resting on my cheek, A red handprint stark against my throat. He’s still yelling. That was the last time, I swear it. Promising while packing. Slipping out into the night. Suitcase in one hand, His tiny grip in the other. Hiding in the corner, Crouched where he can’t see. Shh. We’re safe here. He won’t find us. The phone ringing, The false promises pleading, The fragile hope flickering. Where is my Daddy, Mommy? Where did he go? Why isn’t he with us? This is the last time, I swear it. The last chance. So he’ll have his daddy. The door creaking open, The lights turning on. We’re home.