Cherry River

TW: domestic violence

I am dying, I think. Instead of inducing panic, this realization calms me with a flood of peace. As my long brown hair flows ethereally around me in the dark murky water, I think back to the events of the day that led to this moment. I close my eyes and see Damon’s face materialize crystal-clear in my mind’s eye. 

His face twists with rage as he looks down at the small stick in my hand that determines my entire future. The double red lines seem to taunt me as they sit there, confirming my worst fears. Damon sneers. “You little bitch. You know what this means, huh?” I close my eyes to escape the murderous glare from his angry brown eyes. His light blonde curls flop into his eyes as he sneers with fury. “You- you dumb bitch! HOW DARE YOU!” he screams, spittle flying through his gritted, pearly-white teeth. His clean-shaven jaw tightens as he roughly grabs my shoulders and slams me against the thin, poorly-wallpapered wall. He rears his hand back and slaps me so hard that my ears ring. My cheek throbs as I blink in shock. 

“You know it wasn’t my fault-” I begin. He slaps me again, harder this time. This will leave marks. “You dumbass,” he growls. “It’s your own fault for gettin’ yourself pregnant, and now you’re gonna have to deal with it.” I roughly push against him and move towards the door. “For crying out loud, you got me pregnant, Damon!” I exclaim. He runs at me with incredible speed, shoving me onto the door and punching me in the face. I feel a crack in my mouth as something falls into my mouth along with a torrent of blood. With a start, I realize it was a tooth. He knocked my tooth out. “That’s it,” I say with a mouthful of blood, spitting my molar onto the carpet. “I’m out of here, man. I have a baby to take care of.” I turn slowly around and wrap my hand around the doorknob. For a second, I believe I’m home free, but then I feel the vice of Damon’s hands wrap around my neck. 

“You ain’t goin’ nowhere, hoe,” he drawls in a dangerous undertone. His lips are close enough to my face that I can smell the remnants of the beers that he downed this morning. As my heart races with the awareness of extreme danger, I realize I have to act out of self-preservation. I gasp for air as his strong hands constrict around my neck. His rough fingers press deep into my neck, blocking my airway as I grow lightheaded. I reach up and grab his wrists, desperately trying to distract him. To my amazement, it works. His hands loosen, and he spins me around. I giggle falsely and put on an air of seductiveness, ignoring my screaming instincts and pressing my body against his. His rank stench makes my nostrils flare as I lean my head against his shoulders. He strokes my hair, and I hear his heart slow. I look up into his brown eyes and reach up to brush the curls off his forehead. 

He chuckles and licks his lips. “What you doin’, baby? I thought you were leavin’.” “Well, honey, I changed my mind,” I reply, straining to keep the nervousness out of my voice. He wraps his muscled arms around my body like a cage, keeping me entrapped against him. Damon’s deep voice rumbles from his chest. “I ain’t raisin’ no baby, sugar. I don’t know what we’re gonna do ‘bout this, but I ain’t raisin’ no baby.” Every ounce of love I ever had for this man dries up in my heart. I smooth my face and kiss his lips. He chuckles as he presses his lips back onto my mouth, slipping his tongue into my mouth. I resist the urge to cringe as he roughly moves his tongue back and forth, contaminating my mouth with the taste of stale alcohol. He pulls back and looks into my eyes warmly.

“My Bessie.” I try to smile, but my face ends up in a grimace. His face falls, and his brown eyes turn colder than ice. “You fake bitch,” he whispers dangerously, reminding me of the hiss of a cobra before the strike. I cringe away from his hulking figure. He turns around and grabs a hammer from the table. He holds it in both hands and smirks at me. “Damon, please,” I beg, though I know from experience that no amount of pleading will change his mind now. His arm rears back, and my eyes widen as he swings the hammer towards me before everything goes black. 

Pain. My head. My head throbs, each beat of my heart bringing a new wave of searing pain. I blink my bleary eyes, trying to clear my blurry vision to no avail. My eyes look around at my fuzzy surroundings. I see a burning light on the ceiling, a shelf, a mirror… this is our bedroom. I feel the unmade covers beneath my body, touching the duvet with my fingertips. I blink again, and the room finally comes into focus. I get up from the bed and look at myself in the mirror. I have a bleeding gash on my forehead, purplish and red and angry as if reminding me of the fury I faced earlier. It oozes blood with every beat of my pulse, and it is the source of my immense pain. I stumble into the living room with one thought screaming at me: Get out. Damon is asleep on the couch. I can do this. The car. I need the keys. I spin around in the living room, trying to spot them before my heart sinks. They dangle from Damon’s belt loop, teasing me with their dangerous location. The dull metal glints in the light as if daring me to try and get them. I shake my head. That would be a suicide mission. I’ll just try to get out of this door. I pat my stomach, praying that the blow to my head didn’t harm the baby. My little baby. I step lightly, trying not to wake Damon. I almost make it to the door before I hear my death sentence ring beneath my feet. The floorboard creaks with a scream, and Damon jumps to his feet. I shriek and make a run for the door, flinging it open and running out. He follows behind me and tackles me, slamming my spine into the pavement as we tumble onto the ground. I scream. 

“HELP ME,” I screech maniacally. “PLEASE, SOMEONE!” Damon clamps his rough hand around my mouth. I flail my legs and arms, fighting for my life as he pins me to the ground. He keeps his body on top of me as he unlocks the car. I shriek as he opens the door and flings me into the backseat roughly. My wails fill the car as he starts the engine and begins to drive. I try to open the doors, but they won’t budge. 

“Don’t bother, hon’,” he calls from the driver’s seat. “They’re child-locked.” Tears well up in my eyes as the car speeds away, my chances of survival dwindling as we go farther and farther down the country roads. I look at the green street signs speeding by us, reading them. Scott’s Avenue, Farmhouse Lane, Charleston Road, Church Avenue. Damon flips the blinkers on as he turns onto a street. Cherry River. What? What were we doing at a river? He pulls up to the river’s edge and gets out of the car. He opens my door and drags me out by the wrist. 

“Let’s go swimmin’, bitch.” His fingers grip my wrist as he pulls me towards the bank of the water. The choppy river, rough from recent rain, was like death looking me in the face. I can’t swim, I think desperately. He scoops me up in his hulking arms, ironically like a groom carrying his bride over the threshold of their honeymoon suite, as he steps into the river’s edge. He wades deeper, taking me into the icy water. He looks down into my face with no emotion but anger. I gasp as he shoves me into the water, the cold shocking me and causing me to suck in a lungful of ice. The river swallows me as my legs flail in the river, helplessly kicking against the powerful current. I am dying, I think. Instead of inducing panic, this realization calms me with a flood of peace. 

My eyes open from my reverie, stinging with the icy murk surrounding me. My ears are filled with the roar of the angry river. I sink deeper into the depths of Cherry River, awaiting the quiet death that is sure to come to me soon. I am sure I am hallucinating when I feel a hand wrap around my arm. That, or Damon has swum after me to make sure I will die. I hang my head as I am lifted from the waters, sure that Damon is not done with me yet. As my thoughts fade into unconsciousness, I pray for a quick death. The last thing I see is a man, who is not Damon, looking at me with an expression of concern. It unsettles me as I sink into oblivion.

Beep, beep, beep. My mind is filled with endless beeping. It is driving me crazy. I open my eyes in irritation and then wince as bright lights assault my vision. What on earth is making that noise? I look around slowly as to not disturb my already-searing head, and am shocked to see machines. Hospital machines. I stir and look down to see an IV attached to my arm, dripping fluid from a bag dangling near me. I’m… in a hospital?

“OH, BESSIE,” I hear a sob from the corner of the room. My mother rushes over to me and flings her arms over me as I wince. “Oh, honey, I wasn’t sure you were gonna make it,” she says tearfully. Her tears drop onto my face as she blinks. I take a moment to try to remember what happened, and then I gasp. My hands fly to my stomach as my heart flutters with anxiety. “The baby,” I hiss. “Is the baby ok?” 

“Oh sweetie,” my mother says. My heart preparing for the worst. “Oh honey, the baby is perfect! She’s a figher, just like her mother.” I take in a sharp breath. “It’s a girl?” I say with surprise. She nods and wraps her arms around me, tenderly this time. I close my eyes and take my first deep breath in a while.

“It’s gonna be ok,” I whisper to no one in particular. I smile contentedly as I feel a flutter in my stomach. Patting my barely-round baby-belly, I sigh. “She’s gonna be ok.”