Page 9 of Becoming

“Samantha, maybe we could just relax tonight. It sounds like you’ve had a rough day. I think,” Rebecca began. Pain exploded in her head when Samantha back-handed her.

“I don’t want your goddamn opinion! You do what I say when I say.” Samantha staggered towards the bathroom. “You had better be ready when I get out.”

Rebecca wiped blood from her chin and slowly lifted her nightgown over her head. Every inch of her body still ached from the night before. If only she had called her aunt as she was desperate to do. If only Rebecca could find it within herself beg her aunt to convince her that she deserved more.

“Rebecca!”

Rebecca heard a crash coming from the bathroom and braced herself. She had no idea what had happened that day to make Samantha so angry, so she had no idea how to fix it. Rebecca scoffed silently. Like I could fix it anyway. My mere presence pisses her off. She quickly made her way to the bathroom and knocked timidly.

“Samantha? Are you okay?”

The door swung open violently. “What the fuck is this!”

She threw a toothbrush at Rebecca’s face, narrowly missing her eye.

Rebecca frowned in confusion. “It’s my toothbrush.” She did all she could to stay calm as she was confronted with Samantha’s unfounded wrath. “Is something wrong with it?” She wracked her brain, trying to remember if she had left the toothbrush out, or failed to put it back in its “rightful spot.”

“Bullshit! Your toothbrush is not this color. Who the fuck has been here?”

Rebecca shook her head. “No one. I swear. I bought new brushes for us both the other day. Remember?”

Another backhand caught Rebecca off-guard.

“Don’t fucking lie to me! Where is the bastard, you fucking whore!”

This time it was a punch that made contact with Rebecca’s jaw, causing the young blonde to crumple to the floor in pain. She curled her naked body up as Samantha continued to wail on her. Each kick, each punch, was like being branded with a hot-iron. She wanted to argue, wanted to beg Samantha to stop, but she couldn’t catch her breath and was pretty sure her jaw was broken. Temporary relief only came when Samantha turned her attention to destroying the room looking for the “bastard” Rebecca was cheating on her with.

Rebecca did her best to protect her stomach with the arm she could still move. The other arm lay limp at her side. It was tough to determine what was hurting worse. Her ribs ached so much she could barely breathe. There was a pain in her stomach that made her wonder if Samantha had caused internal bleeding with the multiple kicks to the area. Her left eye was swollen shut and the right had blood dripping into it.

This is it. She’s finally going to kill me. I love you, Aunt Wills. I’m sorry. Maybe I’ll be able to see mom and dad again. Please don’t let them be disappointed in me.

“Who is it, huh?” Samantha grabbed Rebecca by the hair, yanking her head back. “One of the vendors? Maybe an investor? Is that how you get things done? By spreading your legs?” She wrapped a hand around Rebecca’s throat and squeezed. “What? Nothing to say? You always had something to say. You know, the only reason I let myself be with you is because I wanted to punish you for thinking you could talk to me the way you did.” Samantha let out an evil laugh when a blood-stained tear rolled down Rebecca’s bruised cheek. “Did you think I really wanted you? That I could love someone as pathetic as you? Fuck no. I wanted you to know exactly who the boss is and always will be.”

Regardless of what Samantha thought, Rebecca wasn’t crying because of the words Samantha was spitting out at her. She couldn’t deny she had had her suspicions lately as to why Samantha was with her. No, what was causing the tears was the inability to breathe. Samantha’s large hand squeezed against her throat, cutting off her air supply.

“Please,” Rebecca managed. She grabbed onto Samantha’s wrist but didn’t have the strength to fight off the bigger woman.

Samantha raised her free hand, poised to strike again. “That’s right, beg me, bitch. Beg me to…”

All of a sudden, Samantha’s grip loosened, and she stumbled backward. Her glassy eyes widened as she clutched at her chest. The exertion she had displayed by trashing the place already had her breathing hard, but this was different. This, to Rebecca, was more like the inability to catch her breath.

Rebecca scooted herself back as far and as fast as she could. Before she knew what was happening, Samantha began retching. It seemed as endless as the beating did. When Samantha started vomiting blood and convulsing, Rebecca instinctively reached for the phone. Adrenaline must have dulled the pain as she pulled herself up off the floor, and with her fingers poised to dial, Rebecca met Samantha’s wild gaze.

“Help me,” the older woman wheezed in between heaves.

Every hit, every whip, every kick, every slap, every bite, every harsh word that Samantha did to Rebecca came back with a vengeance. It was like reliving it all over again. Not to mention, Rebecca stood there bleeding and broken, contemplating helping the woman who did it to her. Why should I?

“Rebecca.”

For the first time, hearing her name come from Samantha’s mouth didn’t sound like a demand, but a plea. Rebecca held Samantha’s frightened gaze as she lowered the phone.

“No!” Samantha gasped and doubled over, her hand beating weakly at her chest. “Please!”

Unable to stay standing, Rebecca sank onto the bed. There was an abundance of things going through her head that she wanted to say to Samantha. How saying please never helped her. How Samantha deserved what she was going through right now. How ironic it was that Rebecca was the one with unanswered pleas just moments before. Yet, she said none of those things. She simply sat there and watched as Samantha’s eyes rolled back into her head. Rebecca exhaled softly as Samantha’s last breath left her body.

FEAR OR HOPE—possibly a combination of the two—had Rebecca’s good eye riveted on Samantha’s chest. She counted. One, two, three… all the way to fifty. There was not one rise or fall. Not one breath, not one beat. Samantha’s eyes were open, but Rebecca could no longer see the hard, brown that seemed to always look right through her.

The phone felt heavy in her hand. Or perhaps that was the guilt weighing down on her. She should have called for help. She should have done something. Right? The problem was, it wasn’t only guilt she felt. There was something else there. It was the unmistakable feeling of relief. Should she feel guilty about that as well?

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