The Big Fella

The fare who I picked up early one morning at first glance looked like a big rough fella not the type you would like to be on the wrong side of an argument with. But somehow he seemed a bit quiet and subdued, after a few too many minutes of silence I tried breaking the ice by asking” been fighting” looking at the scratches and bruises on his face. 

He said nothing for a while just looked at me and obviously, thinking about what he was going to say. “It’s the girlfriend,” he said quietly, yes what about her I asked. She has too much to drink and then she batters me. I’m sick of it he said people think it’s me but no, I just stand there like a punch bag and take it.

That’s the third mobile phone of mine she’s smashed to pieces and about the tenth shirt she’s ripped to shreds. The next day she can’t apologise enough and always says it won’t happen again but it always does, I've had enough he said I can’t stand it anymore.
So male or female most cases of domestic violence I come across seem to have the demon drink lurking somewhere in the background.