bedroom where she changed into a long-sleeved shirt to cover the bruises on her arms and a fresh pair of jeans to hide the rips and tears he made when throwing the mirror at her. She then walked to the closest bathroom where she washed her face and her sweaty, short hair. The blood from the left side of her head was slowly healing, but blood still flowed in a thin, slow current. She washed it off as soon as she could, but she was not able to focus as much as she’ d hope. All she kept thinking about was his knuckles going into the side of her head with the ring she had given him beaming with delight. She continued to wash the injured part, hoping nothing was broken or damaged with the hit. After leaving her face and hair soaked but clean, she wiped herself with the closest towel, leaving a bit of blood behind. She walked to their bedroom where she curled up in the corner of the room, holding the house phone in her hands. She wanted to call her sister to pick her up and leave this god-forsaken place, but she was never able to do it. So many bruises and messes and hits, but she could not leave. She threw the phone across the bedroom in frustration and cried until she fell asleep in the curled up corner she kept herself in, hoping he would come home in a better mood.
By : Alejandra Uribe