Painful Apologies

My vision is spinning. Worlds are colliding in my head. The sound and beat of the music is washing over me with rhythmic chimes. Vibrations of emotions, slamming mercilessly against my senses. The scent of sweat, perfume, and the sweet tang of alcohol sting my nose. Overwhelming. This tiny room is packed full of people, making it nearly impossible to breathe the already musky air. Lights are flashing, sending pulses of electricity to my brain. I am looking for someone. I search the crowd with fervent eyes, glancing from one make-up slathered face to another. These people, all moving in time, gyrating to the beat of music they have never heard, shield her from me. I fight to the other side of the room, ignoring the disgruntled faces of partiers as I shove past them. She escaped me. I have to apologize. She walked to the door with mark. Mark has a thing for her, I can see it in his beady eyes, so when he dropped her off from work and said goodbye, with his shifty eyes raking over her body, drinking in the sight as if he had never even heard of women before. She came in, and dropped her head, gluing her gaze to the cracked linoleum floor. I asked her why she was so late; she avoided my face and mumbled something about traffic. I didn’t believe her. I felt the anger rushing into my face. My voice began to quake, and malice leaked into my voice. “You dirty whore, how could you be late, you knew I would be waiting for dinner. You wanted to make me wait didn’t you? Do you enjoy seeing me hurt like this? Do you?” I had drilled her mercilessly with accusations that I knew were unfair, but once the gate of anger was unleashed, I could not stop the flood of words from spilling out of my lips. She uttered one feeble protest, and stopped herself, but it was too late, she looked up with horror masking her pretty face. I drew back my meaty arm, and hit her. Again and again I pulled back my tensed muscles and struck her. I could see the tender skin already beginning to swell and fill with color. Her face was streaked with tears, and I knew she could see the anger, wild in my eyes, and hate filling every miniscule line of my face. Couldn’t she see I did this because I loved her? That I was protecting her from herself? The world is too dangerous, and that’s why I have to find her. I keep looking, searching down corridors in the club. Music thumps bleakly through the thin plaster walls, I am looking through doorways now. Where is she. I have to explain that I love her. Left and right, I keep turning my head, searching for her, and then I stop dead. I can see the back of her, with another mans arms tangled around her back, hands wrapped in her hair, a soft moan escaped her throat. I could feel my hands tightening. Now I am mad. If ever before, I have punished her, it will be tonight, I leave quickly before I am noticed. When she returns home tonight, she better have angels with her, for not even god himself will save her tonight.