The cracked lamp

297 words

She noticed the damage, a crack in the porcelain base. It rested mere inches from her eyes, where she lay curled in a fetal position on the carpet. The lamp now as broken as she herself felt.

April waited for her breath to steady and for the sound of the front door to slam shut. She heard the car’s tyres squealing up the street and released a shuddering breath. Rolling over onto her knees, she grabbed on to a kitchen chair and rose unsteadily to her feet, still in shock from the violence she had experienced from someone who professed to love her.

Tonight, his anger had boiled over.

“Where have you been? I’ve been waiting for hours.” His words, although spoken quietly had held a threat.

“I told you I was going to visit Gran.” April felt the need to give a reason. “She’s very unwell.”

“You’re always round there. You should be here when I get back from work.”

“I’m all she’s got. You know that.”

“You are all I’ve got. The old woman should be in a nursing home, let someone else take care of her.”

The thought of putting her grandmother in a care home shocked April. Defiantly she told him that wouldn’t be something she would ever consider.

The first slap, followed by a series of vicious blows, culminated in April lying on the floor bleeding. The broken lamp, collateral damage, although it still glowed. She decided she would leave him and take it with her as a symbol of hope. She would repair the damage, and even though it would never be perfect, the cracks in the lamp, like the scars she bore, would become part of her story, a story of survival, strength, and the courage to reclaim her life.