Steam rises to meet my face as I slip lower into the bath. I can hear John in the living room, hear the floor stretch under his weight.
Though I know he's aware of my presence, I shallow my breathing. Slow my movement to a crawl.
Oh God, don't let him hear me...
The click of the T.V. says he's out for the night, gone to those around him. I breathe a sigh of relief and lift my neck from the water.
The door of the bathroom opens, and carried in on the rush of air conditioning, I catch his sickly sweet smell.
He's been drinking.
His eyes are lazy, yellow and sunk in his skull. He smiles at me, for a moment I see the man I married. The illusion is gone with the realiziation that it's false. The room is cool, but not from the fresh air.
I can feel his chill, the chill of unobtained dreams.
"Hey, honey." He breathes as he stumbles to the tub. "Did you miss me?"
I look at him wide eyed. After 12 years in this mess, it still frightens me to hear his slur.
He takes my silence like poisin.
"No, of course you didn't. Ungrateful *****...."
He turns to leave the bathroom, I stand and reach for my towel.
He spins and lunges for me like an animal let out of a cage.
I feel the blows, heavy thuds. My face, and arms. He shakes me, and I hear my head crack on the tiled wall.
"Why don't you love me...?" He asks, but I'm not sure who he wants the answer from. I lie still, tasting the salt and iron.
I hear him collapse on the couch once more, hear the child I gave him stir in the other room.
Momma's coming, baby. Hold on.
I open the drain, and let the water run down with my blood.
