Living With the Choices We Make (Domestic Violence / Abuse) ✔️

33 - Hitting Rock Bottom

This chapter is dedicated to ScottButcher. Thanks for reviewing the first two chapters in so much detail, your comments were incredibly valuable and appreciated.

33 - Hitting Rock Bottom  

I squat in the middle of the prison yard, leaning heavily onto the basketball to keep my balance. My skin feels sticky and the air is perfectly still, the humidity just as pressing as the guilt on my consciousness. After I got back from court, I asked if I could still get my hour outside and they agreed. I thought the fresh air would lift my spirits but it didn't help one bit. I flushed my whole life down the toilet and not just mine – my dad's, Brent's parents and my son's. Tears pool my eyes when he starts kicking in agreement.

Dark clouds cover up the sun and a flash lights up the sky. I'm startled when the thunder rolls like a scolding voice. I'm scared. The guards swore to me that my dad was alright but I desperately want to hear it from his own mouth. Visiting hours will be tomorrow and I am sure he will come by. I can't wait to tell him how sorry I am for everything I have put him through. I will tell him how much I love him – just like doc suggested – and maybe, just maybe, he will at least not hate me any longer. Yet, I would understand if he did – after all, I hate myself.

I can't get Marcus's aftershave out of my nose and the mere thought of him makes me sick to my stomach. I finally figured out what he has been doing to Patrice – forcing himself on her against her will. Since she is not his biological daughter, he probably thinks it's OK and sees himself as the next Woody Allen or something. In many ways, he is worse than Brent. I know he was just trying to get a rise out of me when he threatened he would visit me on death row and he succeeded – the image of his hands on my body terrifies me.

A slight breeze caresses my skin and another flash dashes across the sky. This time, I'm prepared for the thunder and as the sound echoes in my ears, a tear rolls down my cheek. I used to be afraid of thunderstorms and cuddle up with the blanket pulled over my head until my dad would come into my room and comfort me. I think my mom sang to me when I was really little but truthfully, I don't even remember her. I banned all memories from my mind when she died and just left me behind and over the years, they faded beyond recognition. If someone asked me about her hair color, I wouldn't even know.

My eyes travel towards the sky – she is up there, glaring down on me in utter disgust and disappointment or maybe she is waiting for me in hell, cheering me on. Like mother, like daughter, though she at least did not kill the family in cold blood. It was an accident after all even if she had been drinking. She didn't purposely stab them in the groin like I did Brent, temporarily relishing the power for just one heartbeat. When my brain screamed to stop, my hand kept going. I don't even know why – it was out of my control.

And now I am in this dump of a jail, waiting to be found guilty for the crime I committed and be sentenced to death. A raindrop grazes my face, mixing with another tear. It seems like the sky is mourning for what I did. I don't deserve mercy. There were options I ignored, mistakes that could have been avoided if I had just opened my eyes to reality. I was stubborn and stupid, causing pain and suffering on everyone around me and destroying many lives in the process. I realize my mind is drifting in circles – I am back at the beginning. It's like a wheel of guilt spinning in my head around and around. It will continue torturing me until the day I take my last breath.

Thelma who has been waiting patiently in the shade is walking over to me.

"Sorry, Rena, but your time is up for today."

My eyes rise to the sky once again with pleading, asking for the touch of raindrops on my skin just one last time. Wash everything away – my guilt, my sorrow, my pain. After the thunderstorm, the sun will shine again and maybe a rainbow will even magically appear across the sky, like the ones I saw when I visited my grandparents in Mackinac Island. I would probably never see a rainbow again or breathe the cooled air after a storm. My grandpa and I used to go for a walk when the ground was still wet, shovel in hand, trying to get to the end of the colorful arch.