Waterbed

Tears beat down until she was dehydrated. Grey like hood water dripping into a rusty sink.

The crevices of her lips stung when sprinkled with her natures seasoning.

His cracked mentality bruisers glistened with trickles of blood. She smiled as he wiped his off. Then put her hands up in surrender.

“I’ll run you a bath?”

“Why don’t you just run away?” “Oh, you’re drawn to me.”

She sat on the tub. Skin tie-died with bruises.

The water slammed and wrestled around the tub. The faucet hummed, sounds of a cheering crowd. She thought about her neighbors listening through the walls. Screams and fights were gunshots.
Duck! Get down! Move!
Stay quiet or your family pays for the service to wish you were still alive in pain!

“Shit.”
She zoned into her reality, nearly flooding the bathroom.

He rushed in.
“What the hell is taking so long?” " I thought you drowned or something."

She thought-don’t you wish. I do.

He slammed her into the water and held. Marveling at the power of death fighting to avoid the bed it craves. Always a moment away.

Their son ran in with his baseball bat. Swinging how daddy taught him during practice.

Home fucking “RUN”- she vomited up as his blood-soaked bald head fell in.

“He always wanted a waterbed but couldn’t swim” “BITCH.”

But who will help raise our kid?

She stops from the shot love allows.

She stays with a promise of vows.