Drowning

Chapter 6

Her mind reeled, floundering as the complete lack of anything certain sunk in, reality igniting terror beneath her lungs as the air seemed to thin in some parts and congeal in others. Every so often a clot of oxygen would be sucked past her lips only to wedge itself in her larynx, stubbornly refusing to nourish her with any hope.

But wait - there had to be an explanation.

Maybe his work had sent him on an urgent business trip.

Maybe he was planning a surprise for her.

Maybe he just needed some space to think.

But none of that explained the jade plant. He guarded that as if his life depended on it; if it was gone, it must mean he was too.

But why? Even through his worst nights, she always persevered. She tried to feed him, talk to him, let him know he was loved.

Until last night. Last night she couldn't take it anymore. She had had to leave. There was no other option. He had hit her; he had crossed a line that had never needed to be established because violating it was so unthinkable. In lieu of her wedding ring, Lillian's fingers brushed subconsciously across her cheek, the swollen purple skin tender to the touch.

She reached up to grip the edge of the cold enamel sink, her fingers shaking as she dragged herself onto her feet and directed her gaze into the mirror, her eyes filling with tears as she raked them along her disheveled image. The bruise on her cheekbone looked gaudy and overdone, like stage makeup gone wrong. There were dark circles under her eyes that she was sure weren't there two days ago. Her limp hair framed her face, stringy and lifeless.

And her eyes.

Something had left them, a once-sharp glimmer now replaced with something darker, slower, more controlling. Something she knew she should fear, but couldn't quite bring herself to.

Something.

Something had to happen now.

Life couldn't just go on as it always had. This was a catalyst; by definition of the word, it must set something else in motion. Start something new. Begin a new...a new what? Mark had been her everything. He used to support her, smother her with affection, hope simply for her to reciprocate. Eventually, his worship had turned into vague appreciation, which in time became reliance without a shred of thanks.

Then a sickening thought hit her.