storm.

She sits and waits, listening for a calmness to overcome her surroundings, for the yelling to stop, for the tension in the air to be released. Though she is scared deeply, she still cannot help but feel pity for him, for the way that he is acting. How can one person hold so much anger and not see for them self that they are only hurting the ones that they love? Outbursts of intense anger are accompanied with abusive words and fury. It scares her to see this monster emerge from him. Deep down she does fear that this abuse will extend beyond his vocabulary, escalating into something physical. So she sits and waits behind a closed locked door. With every thump she hears she can picture an object that he has chosen to whip across the room out his frustration, his inability to use words calmly, his inability to communicate efficiently.


His frustration runs deep within him, he can feel it buzz throughout his body, from his core. A sadness consumes him and he snaps. He feels as though he has no control over his life, so he reacts by physically losing control in a pathetic attempt to demand authority and to be respected; coercing her to love him, scaring her into obeying him.  He reacts dramatically; strategically picking on her insecurities, making her out to be the pathetic one. It aggravates him that he cannot see her, that he cannot see the panic that has fallen over her face, the fear in her eyes, the pure insecurity that he has caused. But he knows that as she hides behind that door, she must be cowering. Tears are streaming down her face. She is trying to catch her breath, while trying to remain composed and strong.


She sits and waits. She hears his angry footsteps as they descend down the stairs. She hears his movements getting further away. The click of the closet door and the sound of tangled coat hangers, he is getting his jacket. With a loud slam, he has left through the door to the front entrance of their home; the home that was supposed to foster their love and be a nest for all of their dreams to come true. He has left, but she knows that in a few hours he will come back, calm and quiet, without apology for the abuse that he has expelled and the hurt that he has caused. He will look on as though he has done no wrong, as though his actions are excusable. While she knows that he is gone, she can feel a comfort in the peace that surrounds her. 


She cracks open the bathroom door and peers into the hallway, looking at the fragments of her things that lie strewn on the floor; the aftermath of the storm. As she quietly picks up the pieces, discarding what is not salvageable and  putting back the items that remain unbroken, tears stream slowly down her cheeks. She knows this will not be the last time that this will happen and she prays to a God that she isn't even sure is listening, hoping and wishing that he will change, that she will someday feel comfort and safety in his arms again.