This is the last story of my series entitled- The visit-
Guilt and shame remained my constant companion, beseeching me to make one last effort to keep the family together. Chaotic thought patterns flooded my senses, condemning me for my actions, ridiculing efforts that had landed me where I felt I now belonged, hiding and afraid. A rush of trepidation took hold when I realized that my rebellion had gotten me nowhere and most likely had brought us to the point of no return.
My daughter lay motionless across the room, but her agitated breathing could be heard each time his bags rolled overhead. The familiar clatter of footsteps reverberated, pausing as if to warn and summon. With each sound came the reminder that he was leaving and my fate would be sealed. A loud and garish voice brought me back to the real world as he made his way downstairs, “Abdullah yela, let’s go.”
Now the time had come to put my supposed selfish ways aside and end this stand-off. I would once again try to secure financial support for my children and safety for our household. It was 5 a.m., they would be leaving for the airport soon and this would be my last chance to make amends.
I placed one foot on the floor as if to signify my hesitation at the prospect of venturing back into the insidious world of abuse.
The front door shut, leaving anxiety behind.