“It’s mine you stupid piece of shit. Mine, not yours. I control it, I control everything. And I control you.” He lets go of my head, and punches me over and over again. Some of them land on my face, and when I try to shield myself with my arms, he punches my stomach. “You bitch!” he roars.
“Help!” I yell. But the apartment next to us has been vacant for some time, and it’s still early so most people wouldn’t be home yet from work.
“Shut up!” Bang. I keep crying and trying to scream. “I said shut the fuck up.” Punch.
Please God, please let me die. He stops hitting me and I try to blink through the hot tears to see what’s happening. But the beating doesn’t stop. He wraps his hands around my throat and begins to squeeze.
“You stupid bitch, you make me so angry. You shouldn’t have gone to the bank. It’s all your fault.”
As I struggle to breathe, my eyes try to focus on the last thing I’ll ever see.
But all that’s in front of me is Satan. His eyes are wide and blood-shot from the burning hate that must be pulsating through his body. His face is red from his intense fury, and his hands have a death grip around my throat.
And now I understand my fate and I know my future. You can try to change the devil, but he’ll always remain evil.
“Kill me, please,” I beg.
I close my eyes and give my life over to the beast.
“You can’t be in here, Max. She’s resting.”
“B-but how can she r-rest wh-when there’s p-p-people coming in and out? Sh-she-she n-needs a pr-pri-private room.”
“You know we don’t have the room.”
“I-I-I d-don’t c-c-care,” Max angrily responds. “I-I’ll p-pay for it. P-p-put her in a pr-private r-room.”
“Max, you can’t do that.”
“It’s m-my m-money. I-I’ll do wh-what I w-want.”
Sleep.
“Mommy, Mommy, can Wiwi and me go pway in the back yard?”
“Wade, you need to have a bath. Daddy will be home soon, and it’s getting dark. No playing outside, you need to go get your pajamas ready. Off you go.” Mommy taps Wade on the bottom and turns to look at me. “You too, missy. Go get ready for a bath.”
I stand and just look at Mommy. She’s so pretty. She has the brightest eyes I’ve ever seen in my whole life. Her hair is just like running honey. You know when you drip honey from high above and watch it as it falls on the bread? That’s what Mommy’s hair looks like. Her smile is always so bright. I love Mommy so much.
Why can I hear people but I can’t respond? I’ve heard the nurses talking about me like I’m not here. Is this heaven? Am I dead? Did Trent kill me? Am I waiting to open my eyes and see God in front of me?
“I’m sorry, Lily,” Trent says. His hand takes mine, and he squeezes it. “I don’t know what came over me,” he whispers. I try to open my eyes, but they’re so heavy. “Please, babe, wake up. Please don’t die.”
I’m struggling against the suction of whatever this is keeping me buried and under a heavy veil. I can hear everyone, but I seem to drop off and drift into dreams. Or maybe memories, I don’t know. I don’t ever remember happiness, so they’re more than likely dreams. But I like these dreams, they make me happy. They let me forget all about what I’ve been through, the tests I’ve been thrown into, the situations I’ve had to endure.
“Lily, I swear I’ll change. I’ll stop the cheating. I’ll be a good husband. I’ll never hit you again, or do anything bad. Please, babe, please wake up.”
I’m sucked back into a beautiful dream. I’m in a field of tall wildflowers that sway slightly from the warm breeze gently caressing my sun-kissed skin. I’m skipping through the flowers, and skimming the palm of my hand along the top of the blossoms. The sun is beaming down on me, her happy rays engulfing me in her warmth. Pointing my face up toward the sky, I let her embrace me. It feels natural and raw, like a mother’s kiss on the nose when you stumble and scrape your knee.
“I kn-know what he d-does to you, L-Lily.” A sense of calm blankets me as I feel the warmth of a hand over mine. “It’s n-not r-right,” he pauses, then adds, “Wh-what he does. N-no m-man should r-raise his hand to a w-woman. He n-needs help. I-I knew when I saw y-you in the hospital, I c-could tell he h-hurts you.”
I want to scream at Max to stop, to tell him I don’t want to hear what he has to say, but I can’t open my mouth, I can’t find my voice.
“D-do you kn-know what he said h-happened to y-you?” No, stop, please just stop. “H-he said he c-came home from w-work and the door had b-been k-kicked in. H-he said he found you like this.”