[oasis]

[arts]


 

I came home from work one day, and I am beyond the usual tired; food and service industry will do that to you. I took the 45-minute drive from work at 11pm, and I haven't been home since 6am that day. I stand up out of my sky blue, cream colored car, and push the automatic locking door button towards me, to lock all of the doors of the reliable four-door, family sized car. I stand there looking up at the darkness of the sky. No stars, that's the drawback about living in the city, you can only see the brightest ones, and even though they are the brightest ones visible, you can barely see them. I harshly slam the door to my car, and as I stand in the humid near midnight air, I think to myself "and I get to do this tomorrow too!".

I walk to my apartment in my old black and grey colored airwalk street shoes. My heels, hips, and my leg muscles ache with pain and stress as I put my 1/2 of my body weight on each foot and sluggishly drag the other foot to walk. I finally get to the burgundy colored door, with the plaque of the apartment door inscribed in white on the wood looking plaque. I stand in front of it for a while and think, I think about the drive to and from work is worth it, and then I think about my love life, do I even have one?

I insert my key into the deadbolt lock, and turned the key counter-clockwise, because I know that my lover would already have gone to bed so he would have locked the door. With the same hand that held the key, I turned the doorknob below the deadbolt lock, and pushed it open. The large searing alarm filled the room as well as my empty, hollow head. I turn around to face the keypad and punched in the code "8-1-7-2-END". Once the code was punched in, the entire room fell into purgatory, a complete and quiet void of space, black and hollow as I know my life will about to become. For I was in some serious trouble, with love.

A voice sounded the room, I knew who it was, and where it was coming from. Although I knew what he was saying, I didn't quite know what he was up to. His voice was low, and distant, as if he were "not really there, upstairs". He wasn't crazy, but something was wrong with him.

"Where the, HELL have you been, BITCH!" I jumped in and out of my skin that had sweat and grease caked into it. I faced the darkness in which it was engulfed everywhere, and looked at the projected area of where his voice came from. And spoke, with very little effort to use my vocal cords or to use my lips.

"Oh, hi Jake. I'm going to bed" and started to extend my hands to feel for the monster-sized blue striped chair, so that I wouldn't run into it. Jake turned on the bark-colored, floor-standing halogen torch lamp. He only had on boxers, and wore them like he normally does, below his hips, but high enough so that hey would stay on his muscular toned body. His nipples stood out like Mount Everest much like his nose, and the ice cold eyes to match it. And I believe it is written in the big book of how men look, that if you have those kind of eyes, you must have banana yellow hair, parted in the middle and shaved hair on the sides. Plus the hair must be long enough to be hanging just above his eyebrows, but never touch any part of his face.

"I have been waiting for 6 hours for you to come through that door. And here you are, just thinking that you can go right to bed. Well you can't, your gonna tell me where the fuck you've been you worthless sack of shit."

"I was working and you knew that." was the only response I could muster out of myself

"What time did you go to work? Was it 6am? And I could have sworn you said 6pm, correct if I'm wrong about that. Go ahead, tell me I'm wrong, fugly." I was growing stronger with each comment he said to me, but I just wanted to suppress it so that I could take a shower, go to bed wake up and then go back to work to face the same hell that the food and service industry provides for the youth of the generation.

"You're not wrong..." he cut me off

"I thought so" He stood up from the couch in which matched the monster-sized chair in front of me. He slowly walked to me, he moved his feet around the coffee table so as not to hit it with his bare hairy, strong legs of his. He stood in front of my face, I didn't move at all on account that I didn't have the energy to move back away from him. Jake looked straight into my eyes and said "The next time your late, there won't be any pieces of you left for the authorities to find, dumbshit!" and he raised his right powerful hand, in a winding position behind his head and let loose like a rubberband, and hit my right facial cheek. My body swung around as I collapsed on the oak hard wood floor. He then felt that it was necessary to kick me in the stomach. My lip had already started to bleed, now I couldn't get up because of the newfound pain in my stomach.

"Don't forget something you idiot, I own you! I OWN YOU!!!" And then walked away into our bedroom and slammed the hollow white door to go to bed in piece. I lay crippled on the floor watching from a mouse's point of view of what everything looks like. And to me it looks like..... .... an abusive relationship....

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Author's note: This is just something that I came up with at appox. 3:30am. If you want me to try and make it into a series or whatever let me know by e-mailing me: goober2@onramp.net or if you want to chat to me in person, I'm on irc (on undernet.org) as MetlHead


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