One
I’m lying on the floor of the small two-bedroom cabin in the master bedroom. I’m bleeding out, if only I could get up. My ‘loving’ husband just beat me, while I was carrying his child. I’m done for he was so drunk there’s no way the baby is alive. Steel toe boots make one hell of an impact. I tried shielding my stomach, but I felt my spine crack several times before I wasn’t able to. But hey he left the face untouched; my parents will get to see their only remaining child dead without a fucked-up face. And no grandchildren.
I’m only 24, 8 months pregnant and barely married 4 months. Now I’m dying. I shouldn’t have even really got involved with him he is 12 years older than me and it’s not like he is so successful with a real career working for a hardware store drinking most of the money, made me quit my job after we married. Not that my job was anything special because my stupid shit started way before I met Peter. I was such a stupid girl, and woman. Oh, please God, I regret my life I wish I could go back. I don’t feel anything anymore, but I see my brother in the corner. He’s sad? He shouldn’t be sad I’m coming to him in heaven or hell. Whichever he’s at, I missed him it has only been a few months since he left us here. I close my eyes.
I am waking up and this bed feels weird. The sun seems awfully bright for the cabin. There is only one window in the bedroom at the cabin… I crack one eye open. Seeing 2 large sets of windows. My parents’ home until I was 18? This place has been rubble for 6 years since a hurricane. Dad lost his business in that too. Insurance was a rip off said it was an act of God. I don’t ache from the beating. Wow. I get up and looking around. I was a slob a lot of the time as a teen. I go to the bathroom and take care of business. I grab a brush and look at the image in the mirror…
