By: Lissa Howe

His hand strikes me across the face,

Is it my fault?

He kicks me till I fall,

He then picks up a book and throws it at me,

Then once again begins to kick me till I cough up blood,

I try to run away from this torment,

But time don't stop for me to run,

I run but not fast enough,

He grabs me,

Shoves me against the wall and on to the bed and it begins again,

There begins the horror,

Is it my fault?

He strikes me again,


I scream as he grabs the pillow from under my head and puts it to my face,

I reach at the nightstand,

I find something sharp,

My hand thrust at him,

I stab him in the back and he falls on me,

His warm lifeless body lay there,


Not moving,

Is it my fault?