The Storm

Madeline Christensen

Warning: Implies Domestic Abuse

Crash!

The strong thunder sounds shake the walls of the house as I’m reading. The storm has been brewing for a few hours now, with no break in sight. I hear the chiming of the grandfather clock, telling me it is already one o’clock in the morning.

Stupid storm. Keeping me awake at this hour. I should be going back to bed with Doug rather than reading in a storm. But it was nice to have some alone time. Yesterday we were out all day together, and everything was okay. But he’s been acting strange the entire day today. I think nothing of it. I decide I want to read one more chapter of my book, so I go to check on him to see if he’s still sleeping.

Crash!

The lights flicker as another crack of thunder roars, and lightning flashes across the room. I jump and feel the goosebumps rising on my arms. I turn the corner from the living room and walk down the long narrow hallway, filled with photos of myself and Doug everywhere we have traveled, to the bedroom’s partially open door. I look to see Doug still sleeping soundly through the mass chaos of the storm outside. I turn to go back to the other room to read.

Margery keeps running, not knowing where he is. She is running out of time and energy. Her hair sticking to her face. Red, swollen eyes block her from watching what is in front of her. Her breath comes out in wheezes, panicking. Keep going, she thinks. He isn’t stopping. Keep going. Margery pleads with her legs to get her out of there. She hears a scream behind her. Almost there. She can see the house now. Just a few yards away. It’s within reach. She reaches for the knob, begging the door to let her in. “Please! Please help me! He’s coming for me! Help! She shakes the door more and more before…”

CRASH!

I scream and throw the book away from me, the thunder startling me out of my trance. I’m about to get up to find where I threw my book when I hear footsteps.

“What’s the matter, love?” Doug comes into the room, scratching his head.

“Nothing. Just the storm.” I look around quickly, trying to find where the book went.

“Why is this over here?” He picks the book off the floor from where he enters the living room. I bow my head down, hoping to just get my book back and go to bed.

“I got scared, and it came out of my hands.”

“Why didn’t you pick it up right away?” He asks, aggravatedly. I want to roll my eyes but remember that he’s been in a mood all day and decide that it’s better to stay quiet.

“I’m sorry, Doug. It won’t happen again.” I move around the couch and reach out for my book.

“Was that attitude I sensed?” His eyes are boring out of his head, his mouth tight, making the words seem forced. He holds the book out of my reach.

“No, darling. All I was saying is that it was an accident and won’t happen again. Can I have my book, please? I would really like to finish the chapter I’m on and then go to bed. It’s late.” I say to him, trying to be as soothing as possible, so I don’t come off as rude. Last Friday night came to my mind.

Crash!

Doug walks towards the window with my book in his hand. “We talked about this. I will not tolerate this behavior that has become you,” he says, shaking his head, looking out at the storm. Oh no. I try to think of something that can help me, but nothing comes to mind.

“I haven’t done anything wrong! I swear! I was just scared of the storm.” I tried to defend myself. I did nothing wrong. I should have known better than to read that book tonight. I should have just gone to bed. It would have made everything easier.

“It shouldn’t be the storm that you are afraid of,” he threatens, then turns around.

Crash…