WHO THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE? | By: Jere Hutchinson | | Category: Short Story - Dramatizing Bookmark and Share


Who the hell do you think you are
Jeremy Hutchinson

I don’t even know why I said it. It was a stupid thing to do, I deserve what I’m getting. “Who the hell do you think you are!”, who the hell do I think I am, screaming at him like that. It’s just that sometimes it gets bad, real bad. I’ll just keep quiet and let him have his way with me, that makes him calmer.

God, I wish he didn’t have to make it hurt so much. Just keep quiet, don’t scream, he hates it when I scream. It’ll be all right soon, soon I can take something for the pain. Soon, soon, keep quiet, soon.

He wasn’t like this before, he was, nicer, gentler, I loved him then, once. It worked out well, he’d sell to me for a fair deal and if I couldn’t raise all the money, I’d give him my stereo or lamp or something and he’d call it even. He’d always call me his little Angel and give me a wink. He was so great back then.

Arrggghhh! Oh no! Don’t cry, please don’t cry, he’ll hurt me, god this hurts so much. Just gotta keep quiet, almost over, It’ll be over soon, soon, over soon.

He never liked to hurt me before, at least not as bad as this. Pretty soon I ran out of things to give him, and I didn’t get enough from work to cover it. He’d reach out to console me and I’d let him kiss me. I liked him anyway so I figured it would be good, I’d get what I wanted and he’d know I liked him. He’d rub my legs and whisper in my ear. I’d give him a fake giggle and let him go further, I wouldn’t do anything, just keep quiet and sit still, he liked it that way.

Keep quiet and lay still, lay still, keep quiet, over soon, sit still, over soon, quiet, still, soon, soon, over soon.

He comes and goes, whenever he’s had a bad day. I’d carefully hug him and take off his clothes without ever saying a word, he liked me to be silent, not to disturb his thinking. If I was good, he would promise me something, for the pain, and I could clean up and care for any cuts and bruises. There were always bruises. He’d make me sit there, naked, while he rubbed alcohol into my cuts if I was naughty, If I wasn’t quiet, or if I cried. Sometimes when he’d leave, I’d have to go to the hospital, I really couldn’t afford it but it hurt so bad. The nurses would ask me if I was in an “Abusive relationship”. I would say no, I just fell down the stairs. How many times can you fall down the stairs.

He cut me bad this time. I can’t go to the hospital again, they’d call the police, then he’d get mad, he’d hurt me real bad. I don’t want to get hurt, I don’t want anyone to know, they’d just get me in trouble, just keep quiet. I’ll stitch it with my roommates’ sewing kit, and put a Band-Aid on, no one will know, he won’t get angry again.

I wish I could just run away, somewhere where he could never find me. I feel so alone, so trapped, no one can help me. I shouldn’t have asked for anything, I should have quit, it’s not worth it. I should have never let him touch me. It’s my fault, I led him on, I’m cheap, I….I deserved it.
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