A Mother's Bond

45

Sarayah October 1, 2016
I carefully peeled the gauze off my skin, wincing. The blood had dried, making it stick to my chest. I took a washcloth out of the cabinet and wet it. I gently applied it to the gauze. It came off more easily. When I finished, I glanced down at my breasts, unable to stand looking at them too long. The bleeding had stopped. That was all I needed to know.

I pulled down my underwear with my pants. There were long scratches down my thighs, dark bruises punctuating the points where he had dug his fingers into my skin. I looked away. I wondered if I'd ever be able to look at myself without feeling disgusted.

I walked over the bathtub. I wouldn't be able to handle a shower. I filled up the tub, keeping the temperature lukewarm. I eased myself in, gasping when the water lapped at my chest. I gripped the edges of the tub and squeezed my eyes shut, riding the pain out. I glanced down when the worst of the pain subsided. The water was tinged pink.

I gently moved the cloth along my body, slowly and methodically removing my blood. My vision blurred. A droplet of water fell into the tub. I frowned at the ripple. Another one joined it. And another one. I touched my face, realizing I'd started to cry again. I stared down at my fingertips, wet from my tears.

Suddenly, I couldn't breathe. I gasped for air, my chest contracting quickly. I covered my face with my hands, trying to block out reality.

"It was just a bad dream," I told myself, trying to believe it. "It was just a bad dream. It wasn't real. I'm okay."

After a few minutes, my breathing slowed down. I went back to cleaning myself. When I was done, I stood up slowly, supporting myself with my arms. I stepped out of the tub, carefully. I waited until I was sure I was steady, before I grabbed a towel and waddled out of the bathroom. I sat on my bed, looking around while I put on lotion. Nothing had changed. No one had moved anything. It was like life had paused in here while I was gone. I'd never felt so out of place.

I put on my loosest clothes then sat on my bed again, unsure of what to do. I knew they would be expecting me downstairs, but that was the last place I wanted to be. They would have questions. I couldn't tell them the truth. What would they think of me? I didn't want to know. I already knew what Beyoncé thought of me. That was enough hurt to last me several lifetimes.

"I shouldn't have come back here." I whispered.

I wasn't even sure why I'd come back. I guess some part of me had been hoping that Beyoncé regretted what she'd said, that once she heard I'd come back, she would run out to get me. Hug me. Maybe cry. We would finally have our emotional reunion. The reunion that never happened because I'd been too stupid to realize what I had right in front of me. This time it would be different, because this time I came out of my own free will. This time I wanted to be here. But this time she didn't want me here.

I chuckled humorlessly. "How sad is that?"

Someone knocked on the door. My heart sped up.

"It's me, Sarayah. Can I come in?"

My heart dropped. It was just Solange. I mentally cursed myself for getting my hopes up.

"Yeah, come in." I answered.

She opened the door and smiled at me. It was tinged with sadness. I frowned. She knew something.

"So, now that you're back, we have to go through the whole process again. Police, hospital etc. etc."

I sighed, feeling more tired than I ever had before. "Can we do that tomorrow?"

Solo shook her head. "No, we can't. You need to get checked out. Plus, you have some time sensitive information. These things need to get done as soon as possible."