Been To Hell

Chapter 10: Black Dahlia.

Everybody knows that the Black Dahlia murder is one of the most famous unsolved murders in California; Los Angeles to be exact. Everybody knows that July of 1946 Elizabeth Short came to California from Florida to visit a friend. Six months later her body was found in a parking lot, severed in half at the waist. Her body wasn’t just dumped there, it was posed. She was abducted, struck a few times in the face and head, restrained by her wrists and ankles, she was given a Glasgow smile, which is two gashes on either side of the mouth going up to the ears to give the appearance of a smile; then she was cleaned and posed.

Why am I talking about a murder that happened in the 40’s? Sometimes, mainly now, as I stand in front of the bathroom mirror, I wonder exactly how many Black Dahlias there have been since then, before then even? How many women felt comfortable in their environment but then were proven to be foolish for doing so? Sure, there was never another Elizabeth Short. There was never another severed body in a parking lot. But how many women felt safe with their surroundings then were murdered, not physically but metaphorically. Metaphorically murdered by someone they trusted. How many women were torn in two and abused before going home to get cleaned up, strike the pose of “Nothing’s wrong, really, I’m fine.” With a Glasgow smile they’ve given themselves to show their really alright, when inside they’re dead; brutally murdered?  

As I stand here, in front of the bathroom mirror, brushing my dripping wet hair against the white tank top in rhythmic mindless motions, I wonder if I’ve just become the newest Black Dahlia. There was a dull pain between my legs, where I was torn in two. I stared blankly into the vacant brown eyes staring back at me. They were bloodshot and swollen but ringed with evidence of a newer title. Victim. I was a victim of domestic violence. That’s a title my mother has made damn sure I didn’t get. But I got it anyways, I can’t let her know it though, she’ll be destroyed inside. I don’t know if he meant it, okay, I know he meant it. But what did he mean by it? What were his intentions? Because God knows it wasn’t to love and show affection to me. Otherwise he wouldn’t have done that. He would’ve stopped when I told him to. He wouldn’t have been so rough. He wouldn’t have dominated and humiliated me the way he did. The million dollar question Elizabeth Short and I share is: Why? Why did this happen? What were Matt’s intentions? Where was his head when he thought this was a good idea? . . . . Did he think it was a good idea? Does he consciously acknowledge that what he did was wrong?

My conscious kept flashing the images and feelings, sounds and smells into my mind as I stroked my hair vacantly. That dull pain brought every in my stomach up, I dropped the hair brush into the sink and lurched over to the toilet. I’ve never had something make me physically sick. I’ve never been in a situation where I was faced with flashbacks that made every muscle in my body tense achingly until I was forced to be sick.

I lifted my head, brushing my wet bangs from splash back zone and sighed a heavy gasp. I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and sat on the floor, leaning against the bathtub in case I was sick again. My vision was blurred with tears once again. A heavy exhale that was almost a wincing sob lifted out of my lungs as my body shook with overwhelming amounts of emotions. But everything stopped when there was a knock at the door. I didn’t make a noise or move a muscle. The door opened and Matt popped his head in with a concerned look on his face.  His blue eyed stayed on me as he side shuffled into the bathroom, leaving the door open for a quick and easy getaway.

“Are you okay?” He swallowed. I nodded slowly.

“Yeah,”

“–But you were bleeding.”

“I said I’m fine.” I snapped at him with a cold venomous voice. I stared coldly up at him from the floor. His silver-blue eyes widened at my tone but then he nodded. He leaned against the wall with his hands behind his back.