I’m Broken – Part 7

By Kris

The police had been visiting me weekly to check on me and see if I had started making notes.

Right from the start when I was let out of hospital a few days after the attack, as I walked up the path with the police support officer and we headed towards the front door to that flat. I stopped a few feet away by the bathroom window. “I was mugged here! Right here!” The officer looked at me curiously. “I remember being hit from behind by a dark figure”

When I mentioned that to the inspectors the first time, it was not denied or confirmed but there was finally a need to start writing those flashbacks down. I had to start preparing a witness statement for the police, mainly concerning the actual night itself. There was to be an impact statement to be produced later.

I sat there, The Big Black Dog curled at my feet. I opened the writing book. An upsetting thing was I could no longer write like I used to. A young child could have done better.

My first few lines were hard to write, tears streaming down my face I struggled to write the words from my experience walking towards of that flat. Writing it down was admitting that the dark figure I thought was mugging me was obviously my partner. I could not write any more than that, because writing was impossible for me!

I mentioned my writing issue with all the Dr’s involved, they all tried to assure me it was purely shock of having to put it down in writing, and hopefully not the blow to the head. Time would only tell on that one.

Over the next few months as I had more therapy, the prescription medications took effect the flash backs were clearer. They were all in that book. Slowly making a disconnected account of that night.

Then for my witness statement, I had to carefully read it time and time again to make sure it was there. Finally, it felt clear yet very detailed. The police were glad of this detail.

My partner had been visiting family from the day before till later that fateful evening. No arguments, just a bit of an atmosphere. We were about to get ready for Sunday dinner. I went to the off-licence for a couple of bottles of Prusecco to share over dinner. When I returned the noise from the television was almost deafening. I was too tired to put up with an unnecessary argument.

“I’m going to bed!”

I kissed your cheek and went to the bed room. I was tired, yet played with my phone for a while. It was around 8.30pm I must have dosed off with being so tired. The next thing I remember was a punch to the chest. That was the point my heart started to break. I started to stir.

Then there was an almighty slam to my head. Instinctively my hands went to shield my head. I felt warmth oozing between my fingers. Another blow to the head! And again.

I tried to stand up to defend myself. I fell to the floor. The bottle in your clenched hand rained down on me repeatedly!

“You BASTARD!!! You have ruined me!! I fucking hate you!!! You have destroyed my life!!!! I will DESTROY YOU!!! I WILL fucking kill you, you CUNT!!!! GET OUT OF MY FLAT!!! Nothing here is yours!!! NOTHING!!! GET OUT!!!”

You dropped the bottle. Grabbing my ankles you tried to drag me out of the bedroom.

“Get out of my fucking flat you bastard!!!!”

You started to drag me out of the room. Your actions were jerky. You moved to get a better grip. How the hell I managed to get up, but I did. I made a dash for the front door, still clutching my head. I fell across the path right into the neighbours front door. I banged his door as hard as I could.

“Ambulance! Ambulance! Ambulance!”

The neighbour opened the door. “What the fuck!!! Hang on!” That was it, I slipped unconscious for a moment. Thing is, brain activity didn’t stop. The flashbacks are a little fuzzy still, but the general idea was: “Police, paramedics quickly! My neighbour is dying on my driveway!”

I felt more pain. I was being hit still. “Die you bastard die!!” I gained consciousness to see my partner being body slammed into the wall. Blue lights and sirens. I do not know where the strength came from, but I managed to stumble to the paramedics. They got me to the bed. “Kris! Let go of your head!! We’re here to help.

Blackness. Then sudden pain in the chest.


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