Cold and not exactly scared but something of that family. I'm on the bed and remember everything up until the car. I try to move my legs and I can but something inside is weighing me down. There is extra gravity within me. I can only breathe through my mouth.
He's over there in the chair on the phone. The TV's on but muted, still I can't hear him. I make out certain words through my eyelashes: yes, over, delicious. Laughing a little and listening a lot. There's a drink in his hand. My breath smells like grain alcohol.
Ends his call, looks at me, something like a smile. I give him something like a smile back, I try to raise my eyebrows. He walks away. He takes a shower.
I am in pain, something so much more than physical. My body doesn't hurt, my heart and soul are bonded, soaked in dread. In moments I will go to sleep with this man right beside me. He will place his hand on mine and whisper words of love. And he'll fall asleep and wake up rested.
The water off. I move to my side. I look out the window, and all I see is a window. He gets in bed behind me, puts his arm across, his hand on mine. He says those things to me. And I say them back, being tired, and hoping for sleep.
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