Miller's Trauma
Yes this is another Greenville Story.
I don't know if I ever thanked you all for your comments, kind, constructive or even critical. Some authors say ignore the comments and I usually did but now I read them without taking it personally. But its hard. You need feedback. I have learned not to take them to heart. But the first time someone wrote that they enjoyed the story and to keep writing, I wanted to run outside and scream in joy. I did do a little dance in my living room My last story, Hal's Story 2. I was compared to qhm1 and I think I cried a little.. When someone wrote the story sucks, I promised myself to never write again. Hopefully they have made me a better writer. I thought I would do maybe 2 stories but this will be my 26
th
.
This story is another departure of my usual fair. Maybe I'm growing as a writer. It started as one idea and morphed into something else. This is the story of 3 people dealing with the trauma of a cheating spouse. My last story part 2 of Hal's Story was the easiest I've ever written. This story has been the hardest and by far the longest I've ever written. Still no editor.
This story idea has probably been done before and most likely by better writers than myself. This is a story that questions his manhood on many different levels and he faces them.
I hope you enjoy the story.
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The Beat Down
"Stop hitting my Daddy!" I could hear my 6 year old daughter yelling at the stranger that was beating me. Not only was he beating me, he was slapping my face back and forth. One of the worst things you can do to a grown man is slap him. Only one step from spitting on him.
How did I get to the point of being beat almost to death by some guy I never met? Easy he was fucking my wife and I walked in on them.
My daughter and I were out for the day. We had planned on spending the day with my parents taking Jill to the Zoo and than dinner. We weren't supposed to be home until 8pm. It was going to be a family trip but Heather begged off at the last minute saying her cramps were real bad. Since Jill was looking forward to it just the two of us went.
After visiting my parents as we were leaving my dad tripped on the steps and twisted his ankle bad enough to be needed to taken to the ER. We spent 4 hours waiting to see a doctor, get X-Rays, wait for the results of said X-Rays and again talk to a doctor. Luckily it wasn't broken but sprained pretty good. They wrapped it up and we took him home. Surprisingly for a 6 year old Heather was more worried about her Papa than going to the Zoo. He promised we could go when he was better. Once he got settled we headed home. I didn't feel the need to call Jill to let her know the change in plans.
45 minutes later we pulled up to the house to find a blue beat up Chevy Malibu in my driveway. For what ever reason I didn't have any strange feelings about the car. We went into the house with Heather yelling for her mother. She wasn't downstairs so I headed up the steps with Heather close on my heels. All the bedroom doors were open and I heard a noise that shouldn't be coming from the master bedroom of I wasn't in there.
I got to the door and there was some guy fucking my wife from behind. Without thinking I ran in and grabbed him by the hair to spin him around. I'm not a fighter. Never had been. I'm 36 years old. 5 foot 11 inches tall. I have been called lanky. I own a food truck for God sake. I have and never had a need to fight. So I grabbed him and spun him around and got one good shot. It wasn't a good shot, it was very ineffective glancing off his ear. He turned after being hit and proceeded to beat me like Tyson beat Spinks. He punched me in the face several times knocking me into the dresser. He followed up with more punches to my gut area. As I slide down almost out of it and unable to defend myself he started slapping me back and forth, forehand and backhand. Calling me a little bitch. Someone who can't satisfy his wife. That she needed a real man to fuck her.
I heard my daughter yell, "Stop hitting my Daddy!" than I heard her scream and hit the wall. Then silence and blackness.
The Hospital, meeting Cooper and Smith
"Sir, Sir, can you hear me?" A voice very far away. She sounded like she was talking to me but I wasn't sure. I tried to open my eyes but my lids wouldn't move. So I went back to sleep. My last thought was of my daughter. I hoped someone was protecting her because I couldn't.
"Mr Scales, can you hear me? Mr Scales squeeze my hand if you can hear me." This time it was a man asking the questions. I squeezed his hand. I opened my eyes and saw a short Indian man in a blue lab coat standing over me. "Mr. Scales, I'm Dr. Singh, your in the hospital. You been here since Saturday when a neighbor found you beaten. Its Monday. You have a severe concussion, both cheeks bones are broken. An orbital bone is also broken as well as 3 ribs and your left wrist. Are you able to talk? The police have some questions about what happened."
Clearing my throat, "Yes I can talk. I need to know where my daughter is, Is she okay? He hurt her."
"Calm down Mr. Scales, The police will answer all your questions shortly." The doctor answered without answering.
A nurse gave me a sip of water a few minutes later. After she left an indeterminate amount of time the door opened again and 2 detectives walked in and introduced themselves. Sargent Cooper, a tall Black guy with a bushy mustache and DC Smith with a swarthy complexion who would be better named Scalizi or maybe Martinez. Maybe he got his color from his mother side.