Her body sticky with sweat, Amy angrily kicks off her covers and jabs her fists into her bed.
Why couldn't Jackson have dumped me in, like, November or January
This way, Amy can sulk in bed without beads of sweat rolling off her body. This way, she could aimlessly stare out of her window into the gray sky, an accurate reflection, as if she were looking into her own eyes.
But life is far from ideal. Here she lies heartbroken and sweaty.
Her promise of a whirlwind summer romance melted in her hands like an ice cream cone and no one to help her clean up the sweet, tragic mess. She goes down a mental list of activities she and Jackson had planned for the summer.
He was supposed to take me to the aquarium next week
There's something pathetic about sulking on a sunny day, as if one was wasting a good day, wasting a good life.
Then we were going to go wine tasting the weekend after that... and kayaking... he said he would go kayaking with me.
Groaning, she remembered that a few days ago she planned a picnic with Jackson by the lake, later on, today. Amy lay on her side, staring out the window at the clear blue sky. The summer heat wasn't enough to permeate through her skin, her frigid heart felt icy with each beat. She imagines what it would be like if he were there with her at the lake today, feeling the breeze dance around them as they happily ate. She wonders if he thinks about her this way, too, wondering if he remembers the promises and plans he put in her head.
"What a waste of a beautiful day, to be spent here sweating over a boy," Amy sneered. "I think it's time to cool off."
Amy took a deep breath and closed her eyes and she sat at the edge of the bed, opening her eyes again to look out the window. It was not November or January and her skies were not gray, but looking out the window she can see July. As if her soul pleaded her to seek happiness, sunlight spilled through the window, bathing Amy in a warmth that filled the chambers of her aching heart. Giving in to the season around her, Amy stood up and made her way to the bathroom to get ready for the day.
"There's no shame in doing all these things alone," Amy says optimistically as she stretches in the sunlight once again.
Swearing to not sulk over Jackson again, Amy grabs her picnic blanket, a novel, and dances her way out the door.
Thursday, July 13, 2017
Thursday, July 6, 2017
andrew's prompt
*Warning: the following story contains scenes of abuse*
Vanessa lowered herself onto the linoleum floor, clutching her sides, tired from vomiting all morning.
Morning sickness.
Vanessa rolled over onto her back, staring at the fluorescent bathroom light on the ceiling. She shut her eyes, trying to shut out her reality but all she can see were flashes from the night before. It was the first time he laid his hands on her, but she should have left at the first red flag. Michael punched holes in the walls before. Screamed at her as he drunkenly threw dishes on the floor and screamed at her some more for not cleaning up his mess. No one was perfect, she tried to rationalize. Every relationship has its flaw, she thought, but the real flaw was excusing his behavior.
He never hit her until last night, after his birthday party at the club. He was jealous that someone bought her a drink at the bar. She was jealous that he was taking body shots off the dancers there, but he slapped her before she could say anything.
"You're such a whore. Anyone should look at you and know that you're mine," Michael said in between slaps. "You were probably fuckin flirting with him behind my back."
"No, babe, I swear I didn't do anything!" Vanessa shrieked and brought her hands up to her face to guard herself, but Michael continued to curse her and beat her.
"Maybe guys wouldn't like you if they saw how fucking ugly you are," Michael grabbed Vanessa by her hair and smothered her face into the pillow. "Yeah, they don't know what you look like without your fucking cake face"
Shaking herself from the flashback, Vanessa shot up, gasping for air. She got up and looked at her swollen face in the bathroom mirror, observing her bruises from her eyes to her neck. She barely recognized herself.
"I have to get out of here."
She didn't have a plan, nowhere to stay, but she figured the first place she should go to was a Planned Parenthood. She needed to sever all ties at all costs. She couldn't have been more than four weeks along.
Vanessa opened the bedroom door and listened for any signs of Michael being home. Usually, Michael would be at work by now, perfect timing for her escape. However, she could hear him moving around in the kitchen. In the air, she could smell bacon and eggs being cooked. She can't wait any longer. She'll have to try and leave anyway, but she'll have to be stealthy about it. Vanessa quietly packed her bags with haste, cautiously listening for Michael to return to the room. When she finished packing, she crept down the hall to the front door. As she opened the door, she felt a heavy hand on her shoulder.
"Where do you think you're going?" Michael turned her around, looking at her bags.
Vanessa tries to make a break for it, screaming for help as she ran across the lawn.
But Michael was faster and stronger than her.
He wraps one arm around her neck and puts his other hand over her mouth as he drags her back into the house.
"I know you're pregnant, babe," He sneered as he threw her onto the living room floor, shutting the front door behind him. "That's why you're getting fatter. How can you try to break apart our little family by leaving?"
His face changes from a sneer to a smile, holding his hand out to help her stand. "I made you breakfast. You should eat since you're carrying our little angel."
Vanessa quietly follows him into the kitchen and she eats her breakfast silence as Michael watches her take each bite.
"I'll wash the dishes, babe," Vanessa says softly. "I'm sorry for upsetting you. I was being so stupid."
Michael smiles and holds her hand, stroking his thumb over her knuckles. Vanessa gets up and kisses his forehead. She stacks the dishes and pans on the counter, diligently scrubbing the dish's entire surface with the soapy sponge. As she rinses dish soap off the skillet, she imagines what it would feel like hitting Michael over the head with it.
Vanessa lowered herself onto the linoleum floor, clutching her sides, tired from vomiting all morning.
Morning sickness.
Vanessa rolled over onto her back, staring at the fluorescent bathroom light on the ceiling. She shut her eyes, trying to shut out her reality but all she can see were flashes from the night before. It was the first time he laid his hands on her, but she should have left at the first red flag. Michael punched holes in the walls before. Screamed at her as he drunkenly threw dishes on the floor and screamed at her some more for not cleaning up his mess. No one was perfect, she tried to rationalize. Every relationship has its flaw, she thought, but the real flaw was excusing his behavior.
He never hit her until last night, after his birthday party at the club. He was jealous that someone bought her a drink at the bar. She was jealous that he was taking body shots off the dancers there, but he slapped her before she could say anything.
"You're such a whore. Anyone should look at you and know that you're mine," Michael said in between slaps. "You were probably fuckin flirting with him behind my back."
"No, babe, I swear I didn't do anything!" Vanessa shrieked and brought her hands up to her face to guard herself, but Michael continued to curse her and beat her.
"Maybe guys wouldn't like you if they saw how fucking ugly you are," Michael grabbed Vanessa by her hair and smothered her face into the pillow. "Yeah, they don't know what you look like without your fucking cake face"
Shaking herself from the flashback, Vanessa shot up, gasping for air. She got up and looked at her swollen face in the bathroom mirror, observing her bruises from her eyes to her neck. She barely recognized herself.
"I have to get out of here."
She didn't have a plan, nowhere to stay, but she figured the first place she should go to was a Planned Parenthood. She needed to sever all ties at all costs. She couldn't have been more than four weeks along.
Vanessa opened the bedroom door and listened for any signs of Michael being home. Usually, Michael would be at work by now, perfect timing for her escape. However, she could hear him moving around in the kitchen. In the air, she could smell bacon and eggs being cooked. She can't wait any longer. She'll have to try and leave anyway, but she'll have to be stealthy about it. Vanessa quietly packed her bags with haste, cautiously listening for Michael to return to the room. When she finished packing, she crept down the hall to the front door. As she opened the door, she felt a heavy hand on her shoulder.
"Where do you think you're going?" Michael turned her around, looking at her bags.
Vanessa tries to make a break for it, screaming for help as she ran across the lawn.
But Michael was faster and stronger than her.
He wraps one arm around her neck and puts his other hand over her mouth as he drags her back into the house.
"I know you're pregnant, babe," He sneered as he threw her onto the living room floor, shutting the front door behind him. "That's why you're getting fatter. How can you try to break apart our little family by leaving?"
His face changes from a sneer to a smile, holding his hand out to help her stand. "I made you breakfast. You should eat since you're carrying our little angel."
Vanessa quietly follows him into the kitchen and she eats her breakfast silence as Michael watches her take each bite.
"I'll wash the dishes, babe," Vanessa says softly. "I'm sorry for upsetting you. I was being so stupid."
Michael smiles and holds her hand, stroking his thumb over her knuckles. Vanessa gets up and kisses his forehead. She stacks the dishes and pans on the counter, diligently scrubbing the dish's entire surface with the soapy sponge. As she rinses dish soap off the skillet, she imagines what it would feel like hitting Michael over the head with it.
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