What Alice Saw
Bridget Squires
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The blood seeped slowly from her lip, down her chin and finally resting on her chin until it welled up and dripped onto the floor. One blue eye was looking down while the other, swollen and a deep purple blue color, was merely a slit. The beautiful blond hair that usually fell into her face in a barrage of curls now was matted and tangled. The color ruined by the magenta dried blood that spilled throughout it. The source of all that blood was a bump which was large with the small cut visible easily. His fists had done a job on her and now he lay motionless on the bed. His filthy work clothes were still clinging to his sweaty body, leaving stains on the sheets. The smell of whiskey filling up the small trailer bedroom along with his sweaty musk was overpowering the apple scented candle that flickered weakly in the corner.
She sat there a long time, tears running from the good eye, soaking her torn nightgown. Her wrist was probably broken, considering the strange angle it was contorted in and the swelling that had already started. It wasn't the first time it had been broken. Now it was easy to recognize when it was. The floor was speckled with the blood and as battered as she was, she still sat crying and scrubbing the blood away. The small hand towel tinged pink as it absorbed what it could of the mess. She knew it would stain if left too long, and then he would fly off at her once more. It had to be cleaned immediately or she would become anxious. She always became anxious and had trouble breathing when she knew something wasn't exactly the way he wanted it. She could anticipate the beatings even before they occurred. Everything had a place in his mind, and she made sure everything was perfect. Yet he always found a reason.
The glass from the vase that had contained the lovely dandy lions was smashed, flowers and petals strewn about. The blossoms, once so full of life, now shriveled and dying, drying without the water that once sustained them. She stood slowly, cradling her wrist and grabbing the dresser for support. As she shuffled along a piece of glass, small and unseen, caught her foot slicing into the delicate skin. She gasped, more tears and now there lay a bloody heel print to clean as well. When she had finally finished dabbing the rug and erasing the trace of today’s events she headed down the hall. The small bathroom wasn't far and as she gingerly made her way there she listening intently in case he awoke. He was out like a light, snoring and snorting, the cocaine making its way out of his system. His wallet sat on the counter of the bathroom, some cruel reminder that he was in fact a part of every room of the trailer.
She looked at her reflection in the spider cracked mirror and a small, pitiful sound escaped her lips. The same lips that was fat and bleeding. Her front tooth, now missing, left a void of black were a once white smile had been just an hour ago. As she monitored the damage done she noticed the hand marks on her throat. Hiding such ugly bruises was going to be difficult and being there were so many she would probably be calling into work. The bra she wore was torn and the strap hung uselessly from the fabric. There was a chance she could sew it and salvage one of the last intact pieces of clothing she had. One more look and she started the water of the shower. The water was warm and steamed the bathroom up, covering the mirror she now hated because of the truths it showed. It was evident that the water stung since little gasps escaped her lips over and over. The crimson pool at her feet circling the drain almost hypnotized her and must have kept her distracted from the pain. The knot on her head was worrisome because of its size and the fact that a bottle had caused it lead to more alarm. There may have been glass shards mixed throughout her hair so she washed carefully. She stood under the water for what seemed like eternity, probably enjoying the ability to relax her tense and beaten body. There would be more bruises eventually; they sometimes took time to show their array of colors. It was times like these that she seemed so peaceful, calm and was not looking over her shoulder frantically. Moments like these were rare and treasured.
Finally she shut off the water, wrapped in a towel and made her way back to where he lay. Quietly, she grabbed a robe and slippers and then went to the kitchen. Papers and mail had been tossed all over and now she gathered them together and piled them neatly. The last one she grabbed she stared angrily at, blaming it for her condition more than likely. It was a check, from her work, but for less than what she was supposed to have gotten. A new tax raise had come into effect, deducting almost $30 from her normal amount. When he had seen this, he had started chasing her down the hall yelling about beer and cigarette money. He would yell obscenities and tell her running would make it worse but that was a lie. No matter whether she ran or not it’d be the same either way. It never took much to get him riled up these days; a wrong look could have the same result.
Now she debated on whether to cash it or leave it on the counter until tomorrow. She wouldn't want to go out the way she looked. Everyone knew though, no matter how the situation was covered up, everyone knew the truth. The harsh reality was that even while everyone knew, no one said a word. It was never pointed out or spoken about. At this point people almost looked surprised she was still alive most days. Yet no one ever intervened or offered any kind words. Probably in fear any acknowledgment may not help but lead her into more issues. The TV was on, the commercial showing commented on some product getting stains out of laundry. She clicked it off to avoid waking him up, although he wouldn't sleep long for now. The nonstop traffic outside and noise of the neighbor next store coming home at 5pm would wake him surely.
For now though she had time to drink a cup of tea to soothe her muscles and planned her trip to the ER aloud. Her wrist must have been broken for that to become a consideration. The questions they asked often resulted in looks of disdain as she lied. It was clear that she didn't simply fall down some stairs or trip while bringing in groceries. One time a pamphlet had been slipped into her things and when he found it she had endured one of the worst times in the last 5 years. Now she always checked the paperwork before setting it down. She would have to wait for him to awake before going; she wasn't allowed to leave without his consent. Last time she had gone to the pharmacy without informing him he had raped her repeatedly and beaten her for hours. Now she asked, even if just walking to the mailbox outside the door.
She went to the fridge and started taking lettuce, tomatoes and bacon out. BLTs were on the menu obviously since they were easy and quick. Her strength was wavering for her to decide on such a simple meal. As she sliced the tomato in her hand with the butcher knife she paused and admired the blade. It glimmered wetly from the juice of the tomato as the sun from the window struck it. She just looked at it, sliding her finger across the blade slowly, careful not to cut herself. It was a sturdy knife, the one that cut easily through most foods. She grabbed a towel from the counter and wiped the blade off, staring at it again now that it was clean. His snorts from the bedroom snapped her back to reality and she started down the hall. The knife was in one hand, the other hand balled into a fist. She stood at the end of the bed, between his outstretched legs, watching him sleep. Sweat beaded his forehead; drool escaped his mouth, leaking down the stubble covered face into a pool under his neck. The sheets showed the pool of wetness as it glistened in the sun from light seeping through the blinds. His shirt was soiled and the pocket bulged where his cigarettes sat, right near his heart. His belly peeked through the bottom of the shirt, exposing his filthy belly button and hairy chest.
It happened so fast, eyes could barely follow. One moment she stood staring the next she drove the blade deep within his chest. He awoke startled and reached for his chest but before he even had the chance she ripp
ed the knife out and drove it down again leaving small splatters across the ceiling. He coughed and sputtered, blood pouring around his face, he started to almost scream but she drove the knife down again into his throat. A few small spasms and then he lay still. She didn't stop though; she kept stabbing until with a wet thud the knife became trapped within his chest cavity. Then she stood up, blood spreading across her robe and soaking her naked skin underneath. He jerked once more suddenly but then a final breath rushed from his mouth and he was gone. The ceiling dripped small blood rain drops down and speckled the room and her face as she watched it from below. She sat next to him; tears came rushing from her good eye as she examined her stained hands. Then strangely she started laughing and was so startled by the laughter she clasp her hand over her mouth.
She shook her head and arose and almost skipped to the phone. Three keys were presses and a ring could be heard. A man came on the line quickly. He asked something not quite understandable and she answered with three words and nothing more. "I've killed him" was all she said, then set the phone down, still connected to the other line, on the counter and returned to the bedroom. The voice on the phone mumbled on and on but she simply left it there. She went into the other bedroom, across the hall from her own and started packing a bag. It wasn't long before the cars arrived. They came in a flurry of lights and sirens, bursting in through the front door hollering, guns drawn. She never struggled, just held her bloody hands out in front of her, surrendering immediately.
The ones in white with red crosses across their backs rushed into where he lay, yelling orders to the others and checking his wounds. The ones in blue sat her on the couch, questions asked and answered, as they surveyed the house. The ones in white returned to the living room, whispered loudly "he's gone" and went back outside. Soon a bed with wheels was brought in and his body thrust upon it. A sheet covered and hid him from view, but the blood was already seeping through in areas. They wheeled him out and into a van. Now he was gone, really gone, forever. She sat on the couch throughout it all, never frightened or hysteric. Finally she reached for me, rubbing my face and sliding her hands through my hair. "Your bag is packed sweetheart. I put Mr. Teddy in there so he won't get lost" she said with a weak smile.
They took me away just then, into another room with a woman in a suit. Mama cried when I left her sight, small gasps and words I couldn't understand calling after me. The women sat me on the edge of my bed as she smiled thoughtfully. The woman gave me a sympathetic pat then asked me questions. "Alice dear I know this is hard but I need you to tell me what you saw tonight" the women in the suit started. It was always the same; they always ask the same set of questions. I gave the answer I had rehearsed and given a million times before. "Nothing ma'am that's what Alice saw"