Shame

Note: this story contains some physical violence, substance abuse, and implied human trafficking.

“Which was easier: selling your baby girl to the whore house or satisfying the monster with your own body?”

Blood flew as knuckles met nose. He stumbled back and fell roughly on the concrete hallway. The rain had not let up since he had begun his journey and as a result, his once light jeans were soaked through, his mud-caked sneakers little more than sponges. He winced and looked at his scraped, bloody hands. 

Woman gently shut the door behind her with a soft click. She stared at Man with hollow blue eyes as he propped himself up on one elbow, looking up at her with contempt in return. The rain continued to hum around them, like a great orchestra before the crescendo. Man averted his eyes and pushed his back against the wet stone. His nose continued to run and he wiped it gruffly while removing the offending blonde hair plastered to his face. Glaring up at Woman he spat, “Did that finally satisfy you?” 

“Spite or money, which is it today?” she replied, her tone as cold as the night. She crossed her arms and leaned back against the door. 

Anger contorted his face and balled his pant legs into his fists. He lowered his head and said begrudgingly, “Neither,” he paused before continuing, “but your child is waiting for you at your old home. He wants something from his mother.” 

His knees creaked as he braced himself against the side rail in an effort to stand. The raindrops thrummed against his white knuckles and shaking arms. Woman’s eyes bore into Lier as she stated bluntly, “I’m comfortable here.” 

Anger clenched his jaw and turned toward the rain, gripping the rail until blood vessels burst. It would be so easy, he thought, no one would know. Just one push. One punch. 

He shook his head, and forcibly unlocked his stiff fingers, inhaling slowly through his mouth. Raising his gaze from the floor he spoke, tone dripping with disgust, “What does he offer you now?” 

Woman paused before answering. 

“The comfort that I deserve,” Pride spoke calmly. She wrapped her arms tighter across her body, shivering as the wind blew over her skin. She began to push down the sleeves of her sweater before Anger replied with vitriol, “Are those marks the “comfort” you feel you deserve?” 

The soft light of a single bulb above the doorway illuminated the bruises on Woman’s face and crossed arms. Her once beautiful skin was marred with shades of black and blue, with red marks still forming. Pride pushed the sleeves of her sweater to her wrists and turned to open the door. She stopped as she heard Anger continue, “You see the world through broken glass, Trash.” 

Spite whirled around and hissed, “I see you clearly, Fool. I saved myself from the life I was living and I have suffered my debt.” 

Anger stood abruptly and laughed long and loud. “Suffered your debt?” He laughed again. His arms swung above and around him as he danced in the hall like the king’s jester. He stopped spinning as his body came to rest, his eyes wide in mock horror as he remarked, “You talk as if you bore the pain yourself!” he cried incredulously. He continued dancing and spinning as he spoke. 

“How Sacrifice loved Mommy! How she loved her! But even she couldn’t love Mommy for long, could she?”

Mother ground her teeth and gripped her arms tighter. 

Father stopped his dance, panting lightly and leaned on the side rail to gather himself. He looked at her, eyes blazing with rage.

“I died. I DIED when you took her from me.” He limped forward a step and glared at her. “If you had any semblance of responsibility you would return-”

“To what?” she snarled, pushing off the door. “Washing my hair in the gutters?” She uncrossed her arms and stepped toward Man, her accusing finger pointed in his face. 

“Waking up every morning with new bites and sickness? Cowering in fear of your return every night you went out?” she whispered, glaring. “Holding Burden and Sacrifice, letting them know that Drunk wouldn’t hurt them?” Her voice began to escalate.

“To go hungry for days?” she shouted. “To hold Sacrifice as she recovered from your beatings?” At this, Mother shoved Man to the ground. Man winced in pain as his shoulder struck the cold concrete and shut his eyes tightly as the pain radiated through his body. 

“I will never subject myself to that life again,” spat Woman, towering over him. 

The rain continued to fall. Man lay on the ground and let its icy fingers numb the pain in his body. He began to raise his head, only to rest it against the floor. He lay still, breathing through the cold and the pain, listening to the rain. 

For a moment, Man remembered. He remembered herself. He remembered Wife. He saw both of them playing with Joy. Joy, who was giggling as Mother lifted him up and rubbed their noses against each other. He saw Mother give Joy a kiss on the cheek. All three of them holding hands in the park, Joy laughing as he was lifted into the air. The sun crowned him when his blonde locks caught the light, shimmering. He saw Sacrifice watching them and laughed as she ran from their picnic table as he called her. He remembered Mother’s smile, the warmest smile she reserved only for Sacrifice… 

For Love. 

Then he remembered more. He remembered the nights when he returned home so overwhelmed. Man remembered Anger. He remembered Drunk. He remembered Sacrifice’s cries and Burden’s wails. He remembered Wife’s screams. He remembered coming home one night and finding only Burden, sitting in the living room, alone and crying. He remembered Sacrifice’s bare room and Wife’s note. 

He remembered. 

Woman breathed heavily as she watched him. She looked at the rise and fall of his chest, the  stubble from his shave, and the soaked brown leather jacket that he wore. Man sat up slowly. He looked her in the eyes and Anger was gone. Woman flinched as she looked at Shame. And for a moment, she remembered. 

She remembered when Joy had become Burden to her. She remembered the Love, who hugged her so tightly and always smiled the widest. Love, who always washed the dishes, who always cared for Joy when Mommy and Daddy were exhausted. Love, who endured the beatings when Drunk came home and still brought Father breakfast when he woke up sober the next morning. Love, who didn’t even stop to ask questions when Mommy told her to pack her things. Love, who had cried for her, as she watched Comfort pay Mommy the money she needed to leave Daddy. Woman remembered when she turned Love to Sacrifice.

She remembered. 

Shame relaxed her stance and regarded Shame. Shame eased himself up and stood.

They stared at each other with level gazes, examining one another as the rain continued to fall. Woman opened the door and turned as she crossed the threshold. 

“Please.” 

She paused. Glancing back, she took in Man’s haggard appearance, his bowed head and hunched shoulders. 

“Please” He repeated, falling to his knees. 

“Please.” She saw the tears in his eyes. The pale light in the hallway elongated the hunched shoulders and hands clasped to his trembling chest. 

She dropped a few bills and nudged the door closed with her foot. The bruises on her face flashed as she returned to the darkness. Before the door shut, she glanced back and saw Man bowing to the floor, as the light shone through each tear that fell from his face to meet the concrete below. Then the door shut and Woman locked it securely.

Man continued to weep until his tears dried up. The rain continued to fall. 

Raising his eyes toward the door, he grimaced, picked up the money and stood. Limping away, he uncapped a bottle from his jacket and looked at it briefly before taking a drink. He would have enough for tomorrow, thought Drunk as he counted the money. Throwing the finished bottle on the ground, he retreated down the stairs and trudged through the mud.