Her cry of shock reverberates through my body. She lays a hand on her burning cheek, though His words burned more. This isn’t the first time He has laid a hand on her, and unfortunately it won’t be the last. I watch Him walk out the door, shaking with rage. The slam of her head against the drywall makes the hole in my body increase in size.

“No man should treat a woman like that, it’s not acceptable,” I tell her.

She just looks at me and tells me, “it will get better… it just has too, I’ll help him. I know I can fix him. I’ll die trying.”

She continues to mutter under her breath, and I realize once again my arguments fall on deaf ears. She pats me and walks away to nurse her bruising cheek.

He comes back later with roses, and pretends nothing happened. My body relaxes because I know she will be safe for a day or two. I watch as He wine and dines her, fearing the inevitable because I know it won’t last. It never does.



I awake the next day to the inevitable.

Screaming and shouting.

Over and over again.


I am getting ahead of myself. To understand I must start at the beginning of my story. Notice I said my story, not their story, I was not involved in the very beginning.

I was always conscious, but never awake.

I remember hearing yelling, though I couldn’t make out the words. The yelling was coming from Him and she was screaming. He pushed her into the wall. That’s when I woke up. From then on I never slept.

“You are nothing. You are worthless. You are a waste.” He would scream at her repeatedly.

When you hear these things being said to you repeatedly you start to believe them. It was never a shock to me that she had zero confidence. He did a fine job of stripping that away from her. Piece by piece. Layer by layer. She used to cry, all the time when he would hit or scream at her, she soon realized it excited him. He looked forward to it. You could see that wicked gleam in his eye from a mile away, yet everyone ignored it. I tried to save her. Then I realized.

You can’t save someone that doesn’t want to be saved.

She spent her days and nights trying to please Him to the fullest although her efforts were in vain. He would never be pleased. He would always find something to hurt her for. One night he slammed her head repeatedly against the wall, the reason? She didn’t fold His socks properly. He became increasingly violent. Snapping for any reason, no matter how superficial. Every time He slammed her into that wall the hole in my body increased in size.

“You need to get out. Get away from Him.” I would tell her.

“It will get better. Everything gets worse before it gets better.” Was her signature response. She refused to leave.

Day by day the sparkle in her eye dulled. Day by day her beautiful skin was covered in bruises. Day by day she grew weaker.

She was defeated. She was alone.

One night He came home late. As soon as he walked through the door tension covered the room like a blanket. He walked in, already screaming, already angry, already violent. She had fallen asleep on the couch, a thing strictly forbidden. He stomped over grabbed her by the hair and slammed her repeatedly against the wall. The walls vibrated each time, making the hole in my body bigger.

She screamed. I screamed. He screamed.

He slammed her head. Again and again. Her blood was splattered on the wall behind her. I was covered in her blood as well. His fist cocked back, then sped forward in a race to see how fast and hard he could make her cry. Part of me doesn’t think we will come out of this alive. His fists and feet pounded and kicked her. Every inch of her body will be covered in bruises by the time this encounter is over.

He slams her head against the wall once more, and then all hell breaks loose. I watch helplessly as she begins to fight back. Her nails, which are supposed to be cut short, are long and deadly as claws. She rakes his face fighting with a passion I have never seen before. Her shrieks match her ferocity, she refuses to be defeated. This you can see on her face. She never fought for herself, she always resigned to her fate. She was weak in the beginning but that all changed as soon as she found out she was pregnant.

I remember that day well. She came home with a paper bag and went straight to the bathroom. 90 seconds later she came back out, patted me, and said,

“Everything will be different. Once I tell him he will have to change. He won’t want to hurt the baby anymore. I told you this would change and get better.”

I guess that’s what set him off that night. He ran into her friend and she was just so excited she told him the great news. Only he didn’t think it was great. He was pissed and it showed.

She manages to fight him off but only for a minute. He walks to the kitchen and comes back waving a knife.

“I’ll make you regret trying to replace me with a baby. I’m your only priority. I’m the only thing you’re allowed to care about you pathetic whore. I’ve put up with you breaking the rules, going against my wishes, and today will serve as a lesson that will stick with you for the rest of your life.”

The only thought going through her head was protecting her baby. I only knew this because I was worried to. I was helpless and worried. I watched as he ran forward grabbed her hair and pressed the knife to her throat. I want to help. I want to stop feeling powerless. He takes that knife and shoves it into her stomach. Her screams I cannot handle. The hole in my body tears bigger as she slams into the wall. He comes at her again and rakes the knife down her beautiful bruised face. She’s done screaming, though she is not done fighting. She tries her hardest to protect herself and her baby, though her efforts are in vain. The baby is already dead. She’s next.

He takes that knife and stabs her, he puts that knife anywhere he can. Her shrieks turn into screams. Her screams turn into whimpers. Her whimpers turn into gasps. Her gasps turn into shallow breaths. Her shallow breaths turn into nothing.

I watch, helplessly, as the life fades from her eyes. Her eyes travel down my body and then to her stomach before she finally takes her last breath. He drops her to the ground and starts sobbing. The tears streaming down his face land on her belly. He’s screaming and begging to take it all back. He regrets what he did. It was a moment of anger he shouts at me. He never blames himself though, it’s always someone else.

Someone must have heard the screaming and called the police because they broke down the door and took in the scene around them. They evaluated what happened, coming up with different scenarios taking pictures, talked to witnesses. They spent a lot of time taking pictures of me. They put rulers against me, questioned the blood covering me, and spoke to me like I wasn’t even there. Two police officers were talking and shaking their heads at each other.

“I wish there was a witness who saw everything. Someone should have protected that girl. Someone should have put Him in jail awhile ago.”

“Not many woman make it out of a relationship like this. They usually end up dead. It’s no surprise really. She couldn’t protect herself, what makes you think anyone else could protect her?”

His statement angered me. How dare he look at me and say these things about her, it wasn’t her fault. She was the victim. It was His job to protect her and He abused that privilege just like He abused her. I tried to save her and I failed too. I tried to tell the police about it. I needed to tell them she was pregnant. There were two deaths today.

I tried to tell the police what happened. They looked at me, and nodded at each other and walked out in the middle of my story. I don’t understand, I was injured too and I was a witness.

“It’s a shame no one saved her.” The policeman then shut the door behind him leaving me alone in the dark.

It was then that I realized even though I had seen it all, from beginning to end, my story didn’t matter. I was just a hole in the wall.