Hell is Real

He walks in the door She senses anger in his voice The nervousness starts in her hands As he screams she made her choice Before he left their broken home through a door hanging by one hinge He had started drinking and she knew he was on a binge When he had drank up all his money and maxed out his credit up his nose He came back to her demanding all the cash and cards she kept safe in her purse and dresser drawers When she told him no, he went into a fit of rage the hand shaped bruises on her throat weren't dirt or marks from age the cuts on her face still stung and knots were swollen under her skin and he vowed he'd keep doing it Until she gave in the last night with him that she can still recall she laid on the bed thinking it was the end the last breath she would draw as he choked her she lost consciousness he got his money and left not caring if she was still alive or succumbed to death when she woke alone she bolted, never to return she can still feel every ache and sting when she hears his name because of him, she knows that hell is real and demons, just the same