text: I run over to my bathroom sink and make it just in time to aim the drops of blood from my nose into it. I feel electric, like every atom of my body is lit up and every hair is raised on high alert. I'm not surprised I have a bloody nose. I am more concerned with not getting blood on any of the carpets. I did push him; I really should have shut my mouth. I know him well enough now that my intuition gives me a massive nudge when to stop, but sometimes I can't. Why should I get up to a car with no fuel in it? With a toddler in tow. God forbid, I demanded he gets up and put some fuel in from his boat with the jerry can. I needed to get to the library for Baby Bounce and nothing was going to stop me from socializing Chrissy with other kids. But it seems that now it has. I'm not surprised by the punch to the nose as this is not new, but I felt confident I could persuade him today. I have the bathroom door shut and I can hear him shouting and swearing. "Well, what do you expect? Huh? You know I hate being woken up suddenly like that!" Oh geez, I would have no idea about that, would I? Crying in the shower due to lack of sleep, getting up 3-4 times a night for Chrissy. Oh Your Highness, how dare I wake you up! "I'm sorry, it's just that I wanted to go to Baby Bounce at the library," I say. I manage to keep my voice subtle, and mild. "Why the hell is it on so early?" He is slightly out of breath, from the adrenaline rush no doubt. Sometimes he says the most moronic things. It's not early. It's 9:30 am. It's the time that the majority of decent, contributing members of society are up, some of which have punched in a few hours of work already. "I'm not sure but Chrissy loves it." I stare at the bathroom mirror. My eyes are watering. It's not from tears but from the force of the impact. My nose is still bleeding, but I know once I clean it up, it will look fine. I don't like looking at myself for too long. He sighs, "Give me a minute to bloody wake up. I'll make a coffee then put some fuel in the car." I like the fact that I can't see his face right now and that he can't see me because I am mouthing all kinds of obscenities in the mirror. "Thanks so much, babe," I say. There is silence. There is always a stream of silence after his rages. He hasn't walked off to make his coffee. He is still on the other side of the door hesitating. "Are you ok?" he asks. This time his voice is softer, almost tender. "Yeah, I'm fine." I don't look up at myself this time. My mind is calming now, and I focus on getting some toilet paper to clean my nose up and then clean the sink and benchtop. It's a nice bathroom as far as cheap rentals go. The linoleum floor beneath my feet is cream-colored, lifting at the edges slightly and there is a tiny bit of water damage at the edges, but the ceramic sink and benchtop are not even chipped. An inspection is due in 1 month. I don't need them picking out anything. I wipe my nose, avoiding bumping my nose too much as it is stinging. I flush them down the toilet and reel some more toilet paper out to wipe the inside of the sink. I pump a little hand wash onto the ceramic sink to soap it up and make sure no blood remains. I hear Wade walk off to make that holy coffee and I give myself one final look in the mirror and am quite satisfied. No blood on my shirt or jeggings and no bruising as usual. I don't bruise easily. This I know for a certainty. I open the door and head straight for Chrissy in the playpen set up in our lounge room. No matter how volatile things get with Wade, there is also one other certain thing; he has never hurt Chrissy, not physically anyway. She is only 11 months old so physical safety is the main thing I am concerned with right now. The other aspects well I don't know how much time I have. When she sees me approaching, she lets go of her fabric picture book and starts doing her standing, jerky squats, her movements are robotic and reactive, and primitive. I am faced with dimples and drool as she beings smiling at me. "Are you ready to go Chrissy biccy? We are going to get some books and play some songs! Evan might be there, that little cutie you liked last time." She jerks even faster with her chubby legs. I had placed my nappy bag next to the playpen earlier before checking the fuel situation. It's a second-hand happy bag, polka dots covering it that is starting to fade like the bag has been left in a car for several weeks. I rummage through again to double-check I have everything. I want to avoid coming back again if I forgot anything. Nappies, baby wipes, bottles, formula, dummies. There's no baby powder as I have run out but it's ok as Chrissy has never really suffered from nappy rash. I feel a tap on my shoulder. I jump slightly. Wade is handing me a coffee. "Thanks, need it this morning." I laugh. I look up in his direction but avoid eye contact. Not yet. He won't get to see my eyes for the rest of the day or when I'm ready. I do notice his body though. What is wrong with me? My fiancée just punched me hard in the nose causing a nosebleed and I am looking at his shirtless body. There is something wrong with me. "You don't need me to come along, do you?" Wade has a distracted and slightly distasteful look on his face. I know he is not really asking; he has already decided. He won't be coming along. "Nah, we'll be fine, it's mostly mums anyway." At least this is mostly true, Hartley in Queensland is an industrial, workman's town. It is mostly mums that attend the library's baby bounce and sing-along. "Ok." Wade walks over and leans over the playpen to give Chrissy a kiss on the cheek. ''Have fun sweetie." I am puzzled by this scene; he is so gentle to her. He now looks back at me. "I'll just put the fuel in." "Thanks, heaps." I am about 20 minutes late, but at least we can still get there. As Wade walks outside, I instinctively let out a sigh and look over at Chrissy. She is young but still able to understand mummy is taking her out somewhere, she is squealing with delight. Wade returns to the house and nods to let me know he has done it. I thank him again, gather my nappy bag, and car keys from the hanger in the kitchen then swoop over to Chrissy to scoop her up with my right arm. She starts giggling and kicking her legs jerkily again. I don't acknowledge him any further and get Chrissy out into her car seat. The morning sun's heat is penetrating through the windows and heating up the seatbelts. I start sweating instantly as I am leaning forward doing her belts up. It's starting to get frustrating as I can't get the right-hand side belt to clip into the holder. A few drops of sweat drop onto my shirt. I curse. Why is this so difficult? I finally get it clipped up and get into the driver's seat and start the car up. I am feeling a little lightheaded but it's to be expected, it will get better once I take some Panadol at the library. My nose still stings, and my eyes are starting to feel heated. I don't need this right now. I just want to get to Baby Bounce for Chrissy. I need to catch up with Erica and watch Chrissy play with her twin boys. I start the car up and turn right out of our driveway heading for the town center which is only a five-minute drive. I only make it one. My vision is getting blurry and a rising aching throb in my chest is starting to become overwhelming. I cannot contain it anymore. I find a safe place to pull over to the left and succumb. I succumb to it all. I turn the radio up, so it doesn't upset Chrissy and then I cry and cry and cry.