Oh crap, I'm in for it now. Shaking with fear, with my arthritic hand on her brass door knob, inscribed with the words, 'Worlds End', I continued with the worst task of the week, entering her disgusting, almost murderous room, left over from when rationing ended. I never liked to knock, preferring if possible to keep her passed out from her exhausting, timeless, painstaking task, of 'doing her best for everyone', our friend, confidante, person to look up to. A person to be feared throughout the building. Everyone's nightmare, our poor misunderstood headmistress, as she always referred to herself.
It was like a game of 'Cat and Mouse', would she move or not. Had I got away with it this time or was she going to beat hell out of me again and again. I had got used to the bruises, but on this particular Monday, I was still in pain from her neck brace, just before she passed out the day before. She accused me of lies and falsehoods, that only she knew how to do. She said I was scum, a no good for nothing, used up, old secretary, who only owed her existence to her kind and generous nature. She was a saint, do gooder and champion of the poor. The truth was rather more terrifying!
I know I should have stood up to her, but we needed the money. My husband was disabled and the medication wasn't cheap. We ate very little, barely had enough to get by, but at least Frank had the pills he needed. My only hope, was that she would change into that person I once knew, the one who used to help others, smile sweetly and cast a motherly eye over everyone who worked in that run down, dilapidated school. Of course that would never happen. She had become unrecognisable, a deranged shell of evil thoughts and vicious ungodliness. She was demented with rage, pierced even the thickest skin with her satanic, alcohol fuelled eyes and cracked bottles of Stella with her teeth. She scared the living hell out of me and she knew it. Her nasty grin, her decomposed voice, loud, gravelly and animated, booming from one end of the staff room to the other. She was bitter and twisted, dangerous and a thing to be feared and she loved it!
'How dare you enter without knocking' like knives through my nerves. Shaking uncontrollably, unable to speak, I offered my deepest apologies!
'I didn't want to wake you, Ma'am'!
With a single back hander, to my face, she knocked me to the floor. Stunned, I shook my head. Tears began to fill my eyes. Oh god, not again. So much pain. I was thin and pale, badly bruised, and inflicted with the scars of my job, and for what, for taking her the post on a Monday morning......