Goat

Part V - The Devil

Olivia was in the far corner, crows swarming her as I sobbed into my sleeve. I'd always loved birds, but I began to hate the crows, pulling her apart like a rabbit on the side of the road: nothing but roadkill.
This continued for a couple days, the crows pulling Olivia apart. I couldn't move, not even to shoo them off.

It was summer - I didn't know the exact date, but I felt the blistering heat and the suffocating humidity burning me through the hole in the roof, and the window I'd months ago tried to escape through. For the first time, I wished he would come, so I could bathe, get some coolness to my swelling body.
He came the next day, looking sicker than ever. I felt genuinely bad for him. Despite the summer sun, he was so pale, his hair was a mess, his eyes now greyer than mine, and sunken more than I thought possible, and his clothes looked too big.
He didn't talk, just filled the bucket and pointed to it. I got in, and he scrubbed me - really scrubbed me, so much I felt like my skin was ripping apart.
When he was satisfied with my hygiene, he pulled me up and dried me off, harsh again, and threw new clothes at me, uttering his first word that day: "dress."
I clothed myself quickly, scared that I might anger him if I did so any slower. When I was dressed, he poured the water on the ground, making a mud puddle, which he told me to stay away from, and I nodded obediently.
He sighed and left me standing by the mud. I felt a panic come over me, and I fell to the ground, my knees in the mud, my arms in the mud, and I cried for what felt like hours.

That night, I laid on my back in the drying puddle. It was still cool, and I'd stopped caring what my husband - I admit I almost forgot he was my husband - did to me anymore. I was locked in a barn and I'd lost my first child, and each day became harder to bear. I felt I may as well let him kill me.
But despite my overwhelming depression, I looked up to my right, at the window, the full moon shining through to the middle of the barn. I sat up, damp and dirty, and looked behind me at the barn doors. I convinced myself I could escape this time; be free and tell everyone what a monster he is, go back to my family and cry into my mother's shoulder. I was getting out.
First, I went to the doors, tried to open them every way I thought possible, until I gave up and went back to the window. I stacked the box and barrels again, making sure they were as stable as possible, climbed up, opened the window, and looked out. It wasn't too far down, but I had to figure out how I would actually get down.
I heard footsteps, and didn't have time to think, just shimmied out, landing on my side. Despite the pain, I got up and ran, as fast as I could. I heard him running behind me, but I couldn't look back.
The area was mostly open grass and red-brown dirt, some trees in the distance. I was losing my breath, and my tongue, or what was left of it, hurt so much, but I had to keep going. I gradually slowed, but I soon heard him fall behind me. I stopped and looked back. He was a few feet away, on all fours, breathing heavily, growling, changing. When he stood, he just stared at me. I slowly stepped back, and he launched towards me, almost grabbing me, but I'd started running already. I ran so long my legs felt almost numb. I was panting, and my whole body hurt. I became slow again, and he pulled me back, pinning me to the ground, on my stomach. I don't even know what he did - it didn't feel normal, like someone was hitting me, scratching me or biting me, it felt so much more violent, what I imagine it would feel like to be chewed on by a shark, clawed at by a rabid dog. I cried, but fought back. I managed to get free, and without thinking, got on top of him, strangling him as hard as I could. He clawed at my face and chest, but then it finally stopped.