As The World Fades to Black

        The pools of purple and blue make the canvas of my face look like some sort of crime as I examine myself in the mirror. I'm going out to dinner with my fiancee and our parents tonight. I can't show up at the restaurant with bruises on my face. I look down at the bathroom sink and the collection of makeup scattered on it. Foundation, eyeshadow, eyeliner, lipstick, sunscreen lotion, everything from inside my makeup container is out. It looks as though a shop has puked in here. I chuckle to myself at the thought, then stare at the stuff for five more minutes before I finally decide what products and colours would go best with what.

        'I might not look as well put together as usual, but it's better than the alternative,' I think to myself as I start applying anything that is strong and natural-looking.

        I start to think about leaving while I get ready to go. I know deep inside myself that I deserve to walk away from this and George's temper. I know that there is no reason for him to be hitting me because I haven't once raised my hand to him. I know all this, but still myself is talking my self into staying. It's not like he hits me every day. It's only when he has a really bad day, or when I have a really bad day. If I would just stop making his bad days worse, there would be no problems. I just need to leave him alone. And when he asks me if I'm okay, I just need to say yes and make sure he can't tell I'm lying if I am. All I need to do is stop bothering him with my silly problems, like when I'm feeling depressed, and leave him alone. Then everything would be perfect and he would leave me alone. George isn't a bad guy after all. He does care about me. The problem isn't that he doesn't care. The problem is that I make his life too difficult sometimes.

        'I just have to worry and think about myself less. He needs to be my top priority.'

        I finish covering up all the bruises and marks on my face, as well as the ones on my neck, and clean up my mess. I put all the makeup and brushes away in their rightful spot in the cabinet. I carefully place everything on it's marker and make sure it all looks perfect. Once I'm convinced it's magazine-worthy, I walk out of the bathroom to our adjoining room. On the bed, my dress for the evening is already laid out. Beside it are my shoes, purse, necklace, and earrings.

        'I should have gotten dressed before I covered myself up.' I curse myself for the mistake, then sigh. It's too late to be worrying about that now. We're leaving for the restaurant in ten minutes, which means I have no time to be worrying about myself. Of course, that's not to say I'm worth worrying about now. I'm not. I'm fine.

        I remove my clothes from earlier in the day and change into the dress George and I picked out. It's a long, silk red dress with a field of silk roses on the top part. The thin straps make it easy for me to put it on bottom to top. I find this a blessing as it keeps my makeup in perfect condition. I make sure everything is where it's supposed to be, from the sash to the ties, before I move to my jewelry. George insisted that I wear the set he bought me for our one-year anniversary: Gold heart earrings and a necklace with a personalized heart on it. It's gold too, but it has a stream of diamonds swirled around it with our initials on the inside. I'm careful with them as I put them on, then criticise myself in the mirror. I think George will love it, but what if it's not quite what he expected? I bite the inside of my cheek at the thought. Quickly, I brush that aside and throw my already-braided hair up in a bun. Once I'm convinced I look good enough to be seen, I put on my heels, grab my violet red bag, and head down the stairs.

        'The door is right there. I could so easily run out and escape now.'

        Another uncontrolled thought comes in my mind and I have to pretend like I never heard it. George is sitting on the couch, already dressed, waiting for me. He's been nice to me today, only having threatened me once. I don't want to ruin that by showing any discomfort. I put on my sweetest, happiest smile.

        "I'm ready when you are, honey. I'm sorry it took me so long." I apologise.

        He looks over to me and smiles back. I watch as he stands and comes over to me. "That's alright, dear. I was expecting it to take you a while to finish up considering the fall you had yesterday." We laugh together at his half-joke, half-reminder. George then takes my black shawl off the coat rack and covers my arms with it. I prepare myself to get yelled at for not covering the marks on those too, but he says nothing about it. He only opens the door and says, "After you, my love."

        I step outside in the mid-evening sun. As I admire the way the trees and sky look, I hear George lock the door behind me. He steps up behind me and places his hand on the small of my back.

        "Beautiful, isn't it?" He kisses me gently on the cheek. "But not near as beautiful as you."

        I smile again. I wait for him to stop touching me to move towards the car. We get in and immediately music starts to play. I'm not sure who it is, but it's soft and pretty. I lean back in my seat and stare out the window. Neither one of us speak in the car, not unless he's in a bad mood, so I don't need to worry about offending him. I watch the beautiful trees with their beautiful shadows pass by along with the beautiful houses. Children are a blur, but their laughter rings in my ears. They are so pure and happy.

        'I pray they never find themselves where I am now.' A lump forms in my throat with this one. I blink it away, trying so hard to not appear sad.

        I try not to breathe much until we get to the restaurant. I've noticed that doing that makes it harder for me to cry. It works and I'm very careful not to show my relief when we pull into the parking lot. As soon as I'm out of the car, my mother and father run up and smother me in a hug. George gets caught up in a conversation with his own parents while mine ask me about anything new with our lives. The six of us walk to the doors together. Benjamin, George's dad, hold the doors open for everybody. Doing so earn him enough "thank you"s to last him all year. We jump in line and start to exchange more pleasantries with ourselves and others around us as we wait to get to the hostess stand.

        "Welcome to 71 Above. May I take your name please?'

        "Butler, please. George Butler."

        Some short time later, we're at a table. By this time, we're past small talk and are discussing the wedding. Everyone wants to know when it's going to be, where it's going to be, how many people there are going to be, if there's going to be catering or not, how many bridesmaids I plan on having. They ask so many questions it makes my head dizzy. George answers most questions himself and I help with others. There are moments I have to announce that we aren't sure yet. Our parents aren't thrilled with that knowledge, but there are no snarky remarks made about it.

        Conversations come and go, as does our food. A civil argument ensues over who shall be paying the bill. I laugh with the moms as we watch the boys. Finally, they decide to split it two ways with my parents paying for me and his parents paying for him. The argument is still continuing when we make it outside.

        "I'm just saying that I don't understand why you couldn't just let me pay. I invited you out, so I should have been the one to pay." George insists.

        "Well, son, we know that you are more than capable of paying and we thank you for offering, but we are your parents. It only makes sense that we pay for our children." Benjamin responds. Lilian, George's mom, nods in agreement.

        "Besides, you two have a wedding coming up. You should be saving all your money for that." My dad says.

        George starts to protest, but by this time, we're already at the car and my mom needs to take her medicine at the house. I cut in and lightly say to George, "Oh, honey, stop worrying about it. The two of them are more than capable of paying for everyone. We'll just get them back next time." Everyone laughs except George.

        "That's right!" My dad cheers, slapping George on the shoulder. "You'll get us next time! This was a treat!"

        This is when George chuckles and the conversation dies. The six of us stand there and talk for some time longer about more little things. We all admire the scenery together. We only break apart when the stars start to shine. Goodbyes are shared and everyone collects inside their cars. One by one, we start up and leave. In the passenger seat, I'm smiling.

        'I should have made an excuse to go with Mom and Dad instead.' I almost scoff aloud at this thought, but stop myself before I can. Just like before, I force it away. Dinner went extraordinarily well. There is nothing to worry about.

        "Why would you embarrass me like that?" George asks beside me.

        I look at him confused. "Excuse me?"

        "Oh, don't pull that tone like you don't know. You know damn well how much I hate it when you embarrass me in front of your parents. 'They're more than capable of paying for everyone'. What the hell was that? Are you trying to say that I'm not capable of paying?"

        "No, of course not."

        "I have enough money to pay for everybody at our table, plus six more!"

        "I know that, honey."

        "Then why did you say that?" He demands. His eyes fly to me for a moment and I can see the fire behind them that I've seen far too often already.

        "I was only trying to join in. I was being funny."

        "I didn't think it was funny."

        "Everyone else laughed."

        He gives me a sharp glare and nothing else is said. I stare out the window like I did before, already knowing what's going to happen when we get back home. I start wishing to stay here, in the car, forever. I wish to never have to get out and for the car to continue moving. I dream of us never stopping so I can always be watching the people jogging along the sidewalk or the families gathered around their porch laughing loud. I dream of always being able to see the children run up to the ice cream truck and of always being able to peer through windows to see them sitting at a table with their parents. I dream of always seeing the happiness. I wish for my own happiness. I wish for things, for George, to be different.

        'I could always jump out of the car and kill myself.'

        We pull up the driveway to our house. I quietly get out of the car, being careful to gently close the door behind me. Nothing is said as we walk to the door together. I have an overwhelming feeling building up inside me, urging me to run away now, that I force myself to swallow. Tonight will not be worse than the other nights. George never hits on me too long. He worries about the neighbours too much. Why I am so panicked inside is beyond me. So I simply stand by his side and ignore everything deep inside my body. Quickly and quietly, I follow him under the threshold. I remove my shawl while he locks the door behind him.

        His eyes burn a hole through my soul as he stares me down. "Why do you have to make me do this to you?" I start to ask him what he's talking about when he smacks me. No matter how much I brace myself, it always sends me backward. "Why can't you let me be nice to you?" He smacks me harder this time. "Good God, Alika! It's a losing battle with you! No matter how much I try to love you, you always give me a reminder why I can't!" This time, he punches me.

        I fall backward at the impact, not expecting it in the least. I try to ignore the pain in my face and scramble back up, but he keeps me down by kicking me. His foot hits my gut with such strength that I almost puke. Thankfully, I avoid it. I try to get back up again, but everytime I start to, he kicks me. Finally, he gets tired of giving me false hope and grabs a handful of my hair. He lifts me off the ground, screaming at me the whole time, and punches me in the face again. I can taste the blood from where he split my lip open again. After another punch, I feel blood start flowing from my nose. He forcefully shoves me, sending me falling once again as I trip over the corner of a stair. He walks closer to me again and kicks another foot right into my stomach. I'm not sure how it happens, but I end up back on my feet long enough to feel my body flipping over the back of the couch after another jab. I end up bouncing off the cushions right through our glass coffee table.

        I stay still, in pain and groaning, as he slowly stalks his way around the couch to look at me. I can only stare at him as he smiles at what he's done. There isn't so much as a glimpse of remorse as he looks at my body covered in bruises, cuts, and blood. There is only happiness and pride. It's now that I realise how important it was for me to listen to the other voice inside my head, the one that I could not control. It's now, as George smiles at his work and I struggle to find my breath. Every part of me hurts. I feel as though my entire body is broken, and I also realise it's probably not too out of line to think that it could be. I groan loudly at this idea. The sound breaks George's concentration and his smile drops immediately.

        Stepping over throw pillows and crushing glass under his feet, George comes closer to me. I don't bother with trying to move anymore. I know how stupid it would be, both with how he's acting and with all the pain I'm in. I consider screaming, but my throat feels as though it's drowning in blood. I watch him instead. I watch and I hope to see him turn back into who I used to know.

        Instead, I see him lean over me. I feel his hands around my neck. I feel him squeeze me like a young child squeezes a stuffed animal in the movies. I feel my breathing completely stop. I feel my lungs fighting for air that will never come. I feel my body twitch with the urge to fight back even though it's completely hopeless. I feel more blood flow from my body as more glass cuts it. I feel the fear and the panic. I feel the overwhelming sense of stupidity and disappointment for myself. I feel pity for my parents. I feel the anger at him.

        And finally, I feel nothing as I see the world fades to black.