Learning From Mistakes
By Barbara
- 467 reads
LEARNING FROM MISTAKES
I was desperate to go to sleep as I entered the flat that night. I'd
only been round a friend's house, having a chat, but I'd had an early
morning and it was half-past twelve now. It always took such a long
time to get home. I crawled through the door expecting an empty but
very messy flat, courtesy of my boyfriend. He'd gone on a stag night so
I didn't think I'd see him until much later.
I was unnerved to find that all the lights were on, and there seemed to
be blood on the wall just inside the front door. Going into the living
room I found my boyfriend, Steve, in a drunken stupor, blood spattered
all over him and something bloodstained tied haphazardly around his
hand.
"I was just talking to Leanne on the 'phone," he slurred. "She seemed a
bit worried and wanted you to ring her when you got here. I told her I
cut my hand but she didn't care. I think it might be 'cause I asked her
if she wanted a shag."
I wasn't happy. Nor was I surprised. Some people just can't drink
without becoming slightly psychotic. This usually only happens to
men.
"Why did you call Leanne? How did you get her number?" Best not to
confuse him with more than two questions at a time.
"I was worried 'cause you weren't home yet. I found your address
book."
"How long ago was this?"
"A few minutes. She said you'd left ages ago."
"Oh God. Now she must think you're a complete prick." I couldn't resist
muttering, "And she'd be right." I was getting very tired of sorting
out the chaos he created when he was drunk. So, I called my friend and
reassured her that everything was alright. She tried to convince me to
go back to her house but I was pretty sure that Steve'd pass out
soon.
"What did you do to your hand?"
"I smashed the mirror in the bathroom," he admitted, shamefaced.
"On purpose or by accident?" It was like dealing with a child.
"I can't remember. I cleaned it up, though," Steve whimpered.
I went to survey the wreckage and found there were stll bits of glass
everywhere. I just pushed it to the edge of the floor and got it out of
the sink as best as I could. By the time I was ready to go to sleep
he'd managed to find the bed so I hoped that a lack of consciousness
would be imminent. But some nights are worse than others and the gods
certainly weren't smiling on me that evening. Steve was restless and
began to talk in his sleep. Well, he was sort of asleep. What he
actually does is drift in and out of consciousness without being aware
of it. One minute he's shouting to the pope about the alien problem and
the next minute he's asking you a question and expecting an answer.
More than a little annoying. In fact, it puts domestic violence in a
whole new light. I started to try and tell him to shut up but he
couldn't hear me because he was asleep. I was shouting and nudging him
for what must have been several long, monotonous hours as he lay there
obliviously chatting to a figment of his imagination. Eventually there
was a semblance of intelligence from Steve at around three in the
morning. I'd begun to cry from exhaustion and strss because I had to be
at work at eight the next morning when one of my pokes actually got a
response. Not the one I'd hoped for though.
"What the hell are you hitting me for?"
I was not amused. "You keep talking and I can't sleep and I have to be
up early tomorrow."
"It's all in your head, woman." He promptly fell back to sleep and
resumed his one-sided conversation. I'd had enough. I hit him as hard
as I could. Now he was awake. Plus he was still pissed and very angry.
In hindsight I don't think I made the right decision there.
The rest is all a bit of a blur. Steve jumped into action and pinned me
to the bed as he shouted at me. "Don't you dare hit me. What have I
done to deserve this, eh? What have I done to deserve a whinging little
bitch like you? Can't you just leave me alone and sleep like a normal
person?"
I was absolutely terrified. I'd never seen him so aggressive before. He
had a mad look in his eye that made me think he was capable of anything
and his face was inches from mine.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to."
"You're sorry," he spat. "You hit me in the middle of the night for no
reason and you're sorry. What if I had done the same? You'd be on the
phone to the police by now. Wouldn't you?"
"I'm sorry. I'll go to sleep now. I'm sorry, Steve."
"Are you going to shut up?"
"Yes Steve. Sorry."
"Don't you 'Yes Steve' me. I'm not having you make me out to be the bad
guy here. You started it and it's your fault. Isn't it?"
"Yes." What else could I reply? My only option was to calm him down and
pray he fell asleep. Then I could sneak out to the sofa. I might freeze
but at least it'd be quiet in another room.
Steve seemed to be unconscious after a few minutes so I tried to get
out of bed without disturbing him. I edged out from under the covers
and reached for a jumper that was on the floor. He stirred as I moved
and I paused to see if he had woken up. All was still so I stepped out
of bed and had just made it to the door when he sat up abruptly.
"Where are you going?" demanded Steve.
"To sleep on the sofa."
"Why?"
"Because you're keeping me awake," I whispered. I couldn't believe that
he didn't know what he was doing to me.
"Don't be so stupid. Get back into bed."
"No. Go to sleep. I'm going in the other room."
"Get back here now." His voice was sounding increasingly threatening. I
had no idea how to react.
"Please. Just let me go."
Steve was by my side in a moment, "You're not going anywhere." He
slammed the door and wrenched off the handle, throwing it across the
room.
"Now get into bed."
I felt like I'd been beaten to a pulp. I lay in bed shaking with fear
as he laid into me.
"Where did you think you were going to go? To Leanne's? Tonight was the
first time you'd seen her in months. She's not your friend. Do you
really think she'd have welcomed you in the middle of the night? You
don't have any real friends. And do you know why? Because you're not
worth anything. All you do is moan and complain when really there's
nothing wrong with your life. Stop crying. You've never really
suffered. You're a spoilt bitch..."
I don't know how long I listened to the tirade of abuse that came from
his hateful mouth that night. I just know I fell asleep wishing that I
were dead.
My head and hand were throbbing when I woke up. I had no idea how I'd
cut my hand, but I was pretty certain the sore head was down to the
fifteen pints of lager I'd consumed before everything went blurry. I
was glad to see that Katy had left for work, the last thing I needed
was a lecture for being pissed up last night. I made it as far as the
sofa before collapsing again.
Before I knew it the day was gone and Katy was due home any minute. It
occurred to me that really I should do a bit of tidying or she'd be
nagging the second she got in the door. I went into the kitchen to try
and limit the mess. There were blood drops on the floor in a trail to
the bathroom that was in a worse state. I was going to be in deep shit
for this. The mirror was smashed and I could see bits of glass on the
floor. I was kicking them out of sight when I heard a key in the lock.
Bracing myself I went to sit in the kitchen, trying to look
innocent.
Katy came into the flat and went straight into the bedroom. I waited a
few minutes before going in to face the music. There's nothing worse
than not knowing what you did wrong. I entered the room to find her
lying on the bed curled up into a ball.
"Are you alright?" I asked.
"No."
"What's the matter?" I asked.
Silence. What now?
"Did I do something last night?"
"Yes."
Oh shit. Please tell me it isn't what it could be. Please God don't let
it be that.
"Did I hit you?"
She doesn't answer. Please answer. Don't let it be true.
"No."
Thank you. Thank you Lord. The relief was fantastic. Unbelievable. Then
I realised I still didn't know what the problem was. Now that I knew I
hadn't hurt her I really didn't care what it was. It couldn't be that
bad. Probably she was just being melodramatic.
Katy mumbled something and I sat down next to her on the bed. It seemed
like ages before she spoke.
"Last night you were so horrible to me. Worse than you've ever been
before. You kept me awake all night and told me that I was worthless.
You told me the worst insults of my life."
"Katy, you know I didn't mean it. I was pissed out of my head. Talking
rubbish."
"You sounded like you meant it."
"Well, I didn't. I love you. You're very important to me and I would
never hurt you on purpose, okay?"
"I suppose." She looked up at me with fear in her eyes.
"I'm going to go and get some chips. Do you want some
sweetheart?"
"Okay."
I went down the chippie thinking about our converation. I couldn't
believe the stupid cow was over-reacting so much over a drunken
argument. When was she going to grow up?
I never recovered from that night. Steve thought I did, but I didn't. I
started looking for somewhere else to live on the quiet. When I found a
place two weeks later I moved out while he was at work. I don't regret
doing something so drastic. He needed to know that what he did was
unacceptable. Looking back, I realise a lot of his behaviour in those
last few months was appalling. The trouble was that the downward slide
had been so gradual that neither of us had noticed. I'll never let that
happen again. This time I'll be in control.
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