The mirror reflects the damage. My copper hair frames a swollen, purple eye as I dab foundation over the bruise. Hot water streams from the faucet, filling the bathroom with steam, but nothing can mask the tremble in my hands.
Kel, I know you love me. I love you too. But why does love have to hurt like this? Why do you
blame me for everything, lose control, and lash out? My thoughts churn. Am I not enough? Is it my pale skin? My body? Am I too much, or too little?
A tear splashes onto the sink. No, stop. What am I thinking? I shouldn’t doubt Kel. This is my fault. I deserve this.
I’m thirty years old, and my body bears the scars of a lifetime of battles. Not the kind waged in war, but the ones fought behind closed doors. My ribs ache from the last encounter, a dull reminder of my place. I need clarity. I need Sondra.
Still, I lurk in the bathroom where I reach into my silk pajama pocket for my cellphone. Nothing. My gaze darts toward the floor, the dim light catching empty tiles. I groan. “Shit! It’s in the den. Right next to Kel.”
A shudder ripples through my bones. If Kel hears me…
I press an ear against the door, my breath shallow. The house is silent, but silence can be
deceptive.
Steeling myself, I exhale, twist the knob, and creep into the hallway. Our wedding portraits loom on the wall, reminders of promises long since shattered. Kel’s face in those photos was different—softer, loving. Now, the weight of those memories feels like chains.
Beyond the den, the microwave hums. My phone blinks from the centerpiece table—blue light flashing like a beacon. My teeth clench. The phone’s volume has been muted. I hadn’t done that.
I tiptoe, fingers brushing the cold glass surface as I snatch the phone. My pulse pounds. Just as I turn—
“Come here!”
I bolt, slamming the bathroom door behind me. Boom! Kel’s fist strikes the wood, the doorframe rattling under the assault. My hands shake as I lock it. Then—silence. A deadly, temporary peace.
Scrolling through my contacts, I press Sondra’s name. The phone rings.
“Hello?”
“Sondra,” I whisper, my voice trembling.
A pause. Then, “DD? Oh my God, it’s been forever!”
Tears spill over “Yeah… I—I needed to talk.”
Sondra’s warmth wraps around me through the phone. I tell her everything—the bruises, the
fear, the makeup covering my truth. The dodging, the lying, the threats. Kel had warned me: If I ever told anyone, there would be consequences.
“For starters, you need to leave,” Sondra says, her voice firm. “This is out of control.”
I swallow, stunned. Leave? How could she suggest that? A Christian woman, telling me to
abandon my vows?
“Sondra… divorce? You mean spiritually, right? Like, seek God’s guidance to fix this?”
“No,” she says bluntly. “You know what I mean.”
I stare at the blue shower curtain. “I can’t.”
Kel had been my salvation once. At Club Mesmerize, eleven years ago, I had been invisible—
pale, awkward, desperate for love. Kel had been different, so captivating. That first kiss had
rewritten my world. The way Kel had touched my hair, whispered my name—I had never felt
wanted before. But love had soured into something else, something I had never expected,
something I never dared name.
“I love Kel,” I murmur. “Even when things are bad, I remember the good.”
Sondra sighs. “Love shouldn’t feel like this.”
The call ends. I lean against the door, breath shaky. No matter what Sondra says, I have made my choice. I have to fix this. We have to fix this.
I unlock the knob, inhale deeply, and step out.
Kel is there, waiting.
“Who were you talking to?” The voice is low, dangerous.
I meet those piercing brown eyes. “Sondra.”
Kel’s fingers curl, then relax. “Redial it,” she says suddenly.
My stomach twists. “What?”
Kel steps closer. “Redial the number. I want to talk to her.”
I hesitate, but I have no choice. I press redial. The call rings once before a cold, robotic voice
answers.“The number you have dialed is no longer in service.”
Kel’s heaves in frustration. Her beautiful little fingers tremble slightly. “Who were you talking to, David?”
I don’t answer. The silence between us is thick, suffocating.
Kel takes a slow step back. “And your eye,” she whispers. “That bruise. When did you get it?”
I say nothing. She shakes her head. “Because I was on the couch all night.”
She swallows, and I can see it in her eyes—the realization settling in. She knew this day would come. She had hoped she was different, that maybe I had changed.
Kel had found my diary weeks ago. I had caught her reading it late one night, the lamp casting shadows over her tanned face. She had flipped through the pages, past the notes about her, past the moments of rage and regret, and landed on the entries about the others. Sondra was the last one. The last woman I had to silence, the last one who had “abused” me.
Before Sondra, there had been more—each woman believing they were different, that they could love me into change.
Kel trembles as she turns toward the door, hesitating. She knows running won’t save her. Not after what I did to the others.
I smile.
“Kel, we have to fix this. You’ve been beating me up for some time now.” I slide out a knife tucked in the linings of my pocket. “And divorce isn’t an option as long as both of us are living.”
Kel gasps, stepping back as I advance. “You don’t have to do this,” she whispers, voice
breaking.
I tilt my head, considering her words. “But I do,” I say, my grip tightening around the handle.
“Because love—real love—means never letting go.”
The house is silent, save for the hum of the microwave, the steady ticking of the wall clock.
Then, a final gasp as I step forward, sealing our fate together.
