Chapter 4 - The Night of the Belt
The pain that drove me to the hospital that Tuesday didn't start in the morning. It was born the night before, in the dark, suffocating confines of our master bedroom.
Diego had come home late from a so-called business dinner. I could smell the expensive scotch on his breath the moment he pushed the bedroom door open. He was irritable, pacing the floor and complaining about his partners.
"Where is my blue silk shirt?" he demanded, throwing his briefcase onto the armchair. "I have an early board meeting tomorrow. I told you I needed it pressed."
I sat up in bed, my massive belly making it difficult to move quickly. A wave of dizziness washed over me.
"Diego, I'm sorry," I stammered, my heart hammering against my ribs. "I felt really faint this afternoon. The baby was pressing against my lungs. I left it in the laundry basket. I can iron it right now..."
His face contorted into a mask of pure, unadulterated fury.
"You are completely useless!" he roared.
He didn't just yell. He lunged across the room, grabbing the thick blankets and yanking them off the bed. The force pulled me to the floor. I crashed onto the hardwood, crying out as my knees took the impact.
Diego unbuckled his heavy leather belt in one fluid, practiced motion.
"Please, Diego, no! The baby!" I screamed, curling myself into a tight fetal position on the floor.
I wrapped my arms desperately around my swollen belly, trying to form a human shield for my unborn son. The leather strap cracked through the air, landing viciously across my back, my thighs, and my exposed ribs.
"You do nothing all day!" he yelled with every strike. "You are a parasite in my house!"
I didn't try to fight back. I just squeezed my eyes shut and prayed to whatever God was listening to spare my child. The blows left burning, agonizing welts across my skin, adding fresh, bleeding cuts to the faded yellow and purple bruises from last week's "punishment."
When his arm finally tired, he dropped the belt onto the floor, breathing heavily. He looked down at my trembling, sobbing form with absolute disgust.
May you like
"Have the shirt ready by six in the morning," he commanded coldly.
Then, he turned off the light, walked into the guest bedroom, and went to sleep, leaving me bleeding on the floor of my own home.
