“Cut it out!” She hollers at me. She has coaxed me into this small chamber, again. It is so small in here and the walls close in so tight. She slams the door, trapping me inside this dreadful place. The handle is too high for me to grasp and I’m too clumsy to get the door open on my own. I try to run from her but there is nowhere to run in a room this small where there are no hiding places.
“Would you come on?! Just stop this!” Her face is contorting, lips pressed firm in anger, jawline hard. The skin of her forehead crunches together in the middle. She comes toward me. I have nowhere to go but deeper into the corner of the room. I drive my head into the wall so hard my neck hurts. I crawl on my belly, further against the wall, wishing I could move it. But I can’t. I am trapped here, in the killing room with this evil woman who pretended to love me.
“Damn it! Why do we have to do this every time? Cut it out!” She wraps her hands down in my collar. Even as she chokes the life out of me, I must resist. Uncontrolled coughs escape my throat as I fight to breathe.
“For real, why do we have to do this?! I have never killed you!” She pretends killing me isn’t her intention but why else would she trick me into this chamber. And even as I resist, she rips me from the corner. Like some crazed animal, she wraps her arms around my ribs and pulls me half off the floor, dragging me closer to the pool where she intends to drown me.
“Just get in! We’d be halfway through if we didn’t have to do this every time!” Yes, halfway through with killing me. Halfway through with ending my life. Halfway through with drowning me. She shoves my upper half into the pool. I try to back out but she has a hand in my collar and another hand on my back, shoving and dragging me at the same time into the water. I have no choice. I have no choice.
“Cut it out! Just freaking stop it!” She pours water over my head. It might as well be acid. I’m scared, waiting for this foul concoction of poison that she coats me with to melt my skin. I prepare for the unbearable pain that will signal the beginning of the end. She pours water over me so many times that I lose track. There is just the nothingness of this torment. The sick game she plays, pretending she won’t kill me this time. She doesn’t want me to fight, to resist. My death needs to be convenient for her.
“Ok. All done. Come on!” I spring from the pool of death and shake the water from my coat. She has not killed me this time. I live!
“Dude, it’s just a bath. You love being clean. Why can’t you just relax?”