Mom's not sleeping. She looks like she's sleeping, but all of the color has left her face and her lips are that eerie shade of blue. She reaches for her mother's hand, still not ready to believe what she is seeing. Her skin is soft, but unnaturally cold. Her chest isn't moving and there's no air escaping from her mouth. Mom's gone and the truth sends Theresa falling to the floor and screaming. "Nooo!!!"
Over the past 10 years, Theresa has relived this awful day over and over in her dreams. Waking with a fresh break in her heart and wet cheeks from the tears every time.
Tonight's dream wasn't as bad, but it still left her shaky. Looking around, she realizes she's still on the kitchen floor where Hector had left her when he was done. How long he had kicked her, she doesn't know. The beautiful darkness had swallowed her up after the first few, thank God. As she struggles to sit up, she can feel it... that all too familiar knife in the side feeling that only broken ribs can give. "Freaking wonderful. At least my face doesn't hurt. I won't have to pile on the makeup like a tramp tomorrow at work, just pretend not to not feel that shooting pain every time I breathe. I can do that much. I've done it before." Steadying herself with the table leg, Theresa slowly raises herself up from the floor. No way is she going into the bedroom. The last thing she needs is to accidentally wake Hector from his slumber. She'll just lie on the couch until it's time to shower and get ready for work.
Blake could hear the alarm buzzing on the nightstand through the fog in his head. Without any thought, his hand automatically swept out and across the small stand, knocking the alarm, the lamp, and everything else onto the floor. "Shit. What a great way to start a morning" he says while fighting with his eyes to focus. The blood red numbers of the clock were now upside down on the floor by the cheap motel dresser. Sitting up just enough to see over the edge of his bed, he could just barely make out the time. 6:13am. Knowing full well that if he didn't get up right then he would fall back asleep, Blake threw the covers back and reached for his sweats. "I hope it doesn't turn out to be one of those days" he mutters while pulling the sweat pants on.
Stepping out into the cold November air, Blake shivers as he zips up his coat. Another day of job hunting in a dead end town. Northern Michigan is all he has ever known, but now, at the age of 27, he longs for something better. Unfortunately, it
Over the past 10 years, Theresa has relived this awful day over and over in her dreams. Waking with a fresh break in her heart and wet cheeks from the tears every time.
Tonight's dream wasn't as bad, but it still left her shaky. Looking around, she realizes she's still on the kitchen floor where Hector had left her when he was done. How long he had kicked her, she doesn't know. The beautiful darkness had swallowed her up after the first few, thank God. As she struggles to sit up, she can feel it... that all too familiar knife in the side feeling that only broken ribs can give. "Freaking wonderful. At least my face doesn't hurt. I won't have to pile on the makeup like a tramp tomorrow at work, just pretend not to not feel that shooting pain every time I breathe. I can do that much. I've done it before." Steadying herself with the table leg, Theresa slowly raises herself up from the floor. No way is she going into the bedroom. The last thing she needs is to accidentally wake Hector from his slumber. She'll just lie on the couch until it's time to shower and get ready for work.
Blake could hear the alarm buzzing on the nightstand through the fog in his head. Without any thought, his hand automatically swept out and across the small stand, knocking the alarm, the lamp, and everything else onto the floor. "Shit. What a great way to start a morning" he says while fighting with his eyes to focus. The blood red numbers of the clock were now upside down on the floor by the cheap motel dresser. Sitting up just enough to see over the edge of his bed, he could just barely make out the time. 6:13am. Knowing full well that if he didn't get up right then he would fall back asleep, Blake threw the covers back and reached for his sweats. "I hope it doesn't turn out to be one of those days" he mutters while pulling the sweat pants on.
Stepping out into the cold November air, Blake shivers as he zips up his coat. Another day of job hunting in a dead end town. Northern Michigan is all he has ever known, but now, at the age of 27, he longs for something better. Unfortunately, it
