Her eyes were blurry as she came to at the bottom of the stairs. She rubbed her eyes to try and regain her sight. But the tears just kept flooding back, clouding her vision again. She sat on the floor for a few minutes, rubbing her belly. She could feel the baby kicking. She began to cry harder now, not because her wrist felt broken, or because of the many bruises that were beginning to take shape on her legs and arms but because she felt guilty that the baby could also be feeling the bruises. Finally she stood, gaining her composure. She looked up the stairwell. He was nowhere to be seen. She stopped crying and stood there silently, listening for his movements. She heard the refrigerator door slam. It didn't startle her but it sparked something in here that made her jump a little. She went into the back room where she kept her sewing machine and supplies and picked up her sewing scissors. Her eyes were still blurry from the tears but that wasn't going to stop her. She was acting on a survival instinct. As gracefully as a cat she snatched up the scissors and headed back upstairs where he would be sitting on the couch, sipping vodka and watching TV. With out losing a step she walked towards him. "What do you want now?" he said to her with hatred in his voice. She ignored his words. She stood in front of him, raised her arm, and aimed the point of the scissors towards his chest. She would have succeeded if he hadn't caught her arm inches before she made contact. She stared into his eyes for what seemed like hours before he pushed her away. She stumbled backwards but did not fall down. Her heart was pounding with adrenaline as she waited for his retaliation. To her surprise he did not get up, he did not speak one word to her but stared at the TV as if she wasn't there at all, as if nothing had happened. She wanted to scream, she looked around for something to throw at him. Her eyes were still blurry and she could not focus on anything. She realized that the scissors were sitting on the couch next to him. She turned around and walked down the hall to the bedroom and shut the door quietly behind her. She lay down on the bed and began to sob. Not because he had pushed her down the stairs but because if she wouldn't have put her arm back to swing the scissors into his chest she would have succeeded. He would have been gone and she and her daughter would be free. She began to rub her belly again and speak softly to her unborn child of five months. "Its ok my baby. I'll never let him hurt you".