Drowning

She was drowning.

Well, the fact of the matter was that she was still drowning. It had been like this for years now, but today she worried the light was dimming. Every night she went to bed, knowing tomorrow things would change. Life would be better. She'd find her footing. But then tomorrow came, and she couldn't even pull herself out of bed. Couldn't find the drive to even dress herself, let alone the kids. By the afternoon, she couldn't see past the piling dishes and growing bills. Could hear nothing but the unhappy screams of children she neglected.

Not that she didn't love them. She loved them as much as she could. They deserved more. Hadn't she always wanted to be a mother? Hadn't a family been her dream? Why had no one told her how hard it would be? How unmotherly she was? They deserved better. More than she could give them. And so her footing slipped further down the bank.

It was a wonder he couldn't see it. The way her body disappeared further beneath the current. Or maybe he did. She suspected it wouldn't matter either way. After all, he had his own current to swim against, didn't he? He couldn't be expected to rescue her. Disney hadn't written this story after all.

He'd been great at first; so happy and uplifting. And the kids...he was so great with the kids, wasn't he? Such a charmer. And he cared for them. Cares for them. Loves them. All of them. Where had he been all of her life? He was bound to start seeing clearly any minute now and run for the door, wasn't he?

But he hadn't, and for that she loved him. So much so that she didn't think it could be real. She was probably delusional. Look at him, and then look at her. They weren't even the same species.

Things didn't fall apart all at once. Just a little at a time. She'd lied. A small lie, she assured herself. Nothing major, nothing important. Just to stop a fight. But lies are discovered, and there are consequences. Always. Maybe he'd hit her, maybe he'd lost his temper, but hadn't he had a reason to be upset? He'd had every reason to leave, but he'd stayed. He always loved her enough to stay. To try again.

After that, he got hurt and lost his job. Surely, not the end of the world, but hadn't he mentioned health concerns? Wouldn't now be the perfect time to get it taken care of? Didn't he want to stick around?

And depression. A slippery slope. He wasn't ready for therapy. Why couldn't she respect that he wasn't ready? Why did she have to push? Why was she always trying to make him angry? Because she cared. Because she wanted him to live forever. Because she wanted him to want to live forever. Why didn't he want that too?

The bills began to pile up after that. It's okay. Money wasn't important. Money wasn't why she loved him. What was money compared to companionship? To love? To family? She found a way. They found a way. And if the blow stung a little more this time, she understood it wasn't his fault. Life had made him this way. Life had hurt him.

The fighting became more persistent. Why couldn't she stop being so lazy? Why couldn't she be more strict and consistent with the kids? Who was that guy on the phone so late at night? A friend? Men and women could never be friends. She was never ready for the confrontation. This wasn't what she wanted. Couldn't he see she just wanted him happy and healthy? Couldn't he see how tired she was? She was losing steam. Her knees were weakening. Her vision was beginning to blur.

I need help. I need help. I. Need. Help. Where was her voice? Her spine? Her independence? When had she started looking down? Couldn't anyone see her? Bobbing in the water? Trying to find her breath? How much could one person take? Was it too much to throw out a lifeline? A vest? A God damned snorkel mask?

God. All she saw were numbers. In her sleep, in her food, every time she blinked. I need help. But she'd changed. She was acting differently. Why didn't she care? Didn't she want this to work? Didn't she love what they had? Weren't they important to her?

I need help. God, it was impressive how well she handled it all by herself. Commendable even. No one could do it better. But couldn't she try harder? Couldn't she just show them how much they meant? Couldn't she just prove that she wanted this too? Don't make this one-sided. Don't make him feel unwanted. Don't make the kids feel unloved. They needed her. And all she would do was flair her arms. Couldn't she just use her words?

I need help.

It's a shame what happened. A real shame. If only there'd been a sign. If only she'd simply said what was on her mind. This all could have been avoided.

I. Need. Help.

A/N: Thanks to anyone who took the time to read this short story. I have always been someone who needs a happy ending, all tied up in a bow. This isn't something I typically write, and this isn't something I take lightly. Depression is a real thing. Domestic violence is a serious issue.

This is something I write about from personal experience; an avenue to help myself deal with the trauma. I share this on here because it's important to understand that you can't understand the thoughts and decisions of every individual. Even if you too have lived through it, everyone has their own stories and hardships. They may suffer differently, but they are still suffering.

Please, if someone you know may be going through something like this, just be there when you can and listen. Nothing is ever as easy as stay or go.