Say Good-Bye To Yesterday

Fear.  Joanne couldn't remember when it had become a normal part of her life.  From the moment she awoke in the morning, until she finally drifted off to sleep at night, it was all she seemed to feel anymore.  How Jeff reacted to what she said, what she did, and what she wore, had become the focus of her days.  Because if he found fault in anything, she knew she was going to get it.

"You're doing it again," he would say, "Always trying to start something."

A chill would course through her whenever he would say that, because she knew what was coming next.  He would slam something and then he would stand in front of her, so close that Joanne felt as if she couldn't breath.  Then he would hiss through his clenched teeth, "How many times...."

The next morning Joanne would awaken to find a stranger staring back at her, in the bathroom mirror.  An occasional eye swollen shut and bruised cut lips, were the usual souvenirs from the previous night.  Her body ached all the time.  The bruises never had time to completely heal anymore, before new ones were added on. 

She barely recognized herself.  It was always such a shock to be brushing her teeth or combing her hair, to all of the sudden look up to find this beaten up woman staring back at her.  Joanne was only thirty, but she felt ancient.  Her light brown hair which once had been shining and healthy, was now dull and lifeless.  Her hazel eyes which she had once been told, were striking, had no spark left in them.  Her body was thinner than it should be.

Joanne felt that she was dying little by little with each passing day.  She knew she had her whole life ahead of her, but what kind of life?  She couldn't possibly go on this way.  She knew that this wasn't living, that it was existing from one day to the next.  Being at Jeff's mercy, day in and day out.

Jeff was getting crazier every day.  His gambling was getting out of control.  The more he lost to his buddies at cards, the more beaten up she would get when he would get home.  It didn't take much to set him off these days.  It seemed to her as if he was just looking for an excuse from the minute he got home.

No matter how hard she tried not to set him off, she would always end up ticking him off.  His face that she had thought of as being handsome once would become contorted with rage.  His dark compelling eyes, became angry and menacing.  His mouth that she had once loved to kiss became this ugly snarling thing.  It was as if he would transform into a monster before her very eyes.

Jeff was only thirty-five, but the drinking made him look ten years older.  His dark brown hair was prematurely graying.  He looked a mess.  He was so different from the man she had met only two years before.  Now she didn't even know who he was anymore.

Joanne had once been able to take on modeling assignments, but as Jeff had become more and more abusive, she had been forced to stop.  Nobody wanted a bruised up model.  No amount of make-up and airbrushing her photos could cover up the mess he did to her.

The money had been really good.  Jeff knew that he was missing out big time on what she could be bringing home from her modeling shoots.  So, he would just take that out on her too. Nothing was ever his fault.  Everything was always her doing.  She felt as if she just couldn't do anything right anymore.

No, Joanne knew that she had to leave.  She wasn't that stupid.  Joanne knew if she didn't leave soon, one of these days Jeff was going to go too far.  He was going to end up killing her.  She had already ended up in emergency, twice.  Having seen it happen too many times while she was growing up in Ohio, Joanne knew it would only be a matter of time.  But it was never anybody's business.  Nobody ever butted in.  Never mind that the whole block would hear what was going on.  That someone was screaming in the middle of the night.

It never mattered how poor or rich anybody was either.  Domestic abuse seemed to happen anywhere.  Now here she was in the same spot as those other poor abused women.  But she would be damned if she was going to become a statistic of domestic violence.

Joanne knew tha