Crippled

She waited, already knowing the outcome.
She knew. Her heart told her so. As did her head.
The heart persistently banged against her ribs…….thud….thud…..and the head began to pound, trying to cope with the tangled confusion of thoughts.
More than anything was the sense of repeated betrayal, lurching up and taking hold of her by the throat, like a savage beast. Almost feeling faint with the pain of it.
She could hear him upstairs crashing through wardrobes, feel the weight of the suitcase on the bed as he piled assortments into it, hear the muttering of his curses. Worst of all, she could still smell the lingering, foul smell of the alcoholic.
And,of course, she knew once again, how worthless she was, all attempts made to help simply lip service. She meant nothing. Her feet remained bolted to the floor.
She saw little point in talking him out of it. He was going, as he always did, to her.
Time after time she thought it would be different, he would come to the stunning realisation that she was, in fact, the woman to save his soul. But then, she often thought who was going to save hers?
Tears spilling really were futile. The strength she had begun with, had ebbed over the months, she was no more than a shell of crushed emotions and contradictions. Anything worth having he had drained from her, propped himself up with it, and carried on functioning.
So she sat. Waited.
Hating the man, but loathing the alcohol far more.
Watched as the door opened onto the street.
And you were gone.