Tragedy Of It
The tragedy of it is that nobody sees the look of desperation on my face.
Beth sits, perched on the edge of her bed, and wipes at tears that are running down to drip off her chin and onto her blouse. The lights are out, the storm knocked out all the power. She should go down to the basement to check the breakers, but she can't move. She thinks maybe she won't ever be able to move again, it hurts so bad.
There are bruises on her thighs and knees, and her head hurts from smacking into the staircase railing. Beth shuts her eyes and chokes on more tears. She can still feel his hand come down hard on her face, the stairs meeting her back as she fell--was pushed--down. Her skirt is torn. There's blood under her nails from the one good hit she got in. She should take the skirt off and mend it before her Uncle sees and asks...
He'll think she's dirty. That she wanted...
I'm not dirty, she thinks, not like Tara. I'm the good one, I do what I'm told. Good girls don't...they don't...But Beth did...she committed a sin, she fornicated, whether she wanted it or not...she's going to Hell now after her Uncle kills her or...
Beth's head is spinning again, and she lies back carefully, wincing and gasping at the pain in her back. Other places hurt, too. Places that have never hurt before. She was told it would...hurt. But this is so many times worse than she imagined. The bruises, the torn skin, it all stings and aches and she can't stop the tears.
She thought of what her Uncle would do if he found out. She's in so much trouble, she knows it...
Dinner that night is by candles since the power hasn't come back on. Beth covers her bruises with makeup her Uncle doesn't know she has.
And when he's asked, Donny says the scratches on his face are from the cat.