Warmth wrapped around my body before I even opened my eyes. For a moment, I thought I was dreaming. I blinked continuously, trying to focus, trying to understand how I got here. Here I was, sitting in a bathtub, surrounded by warm water.
The water soaked into my skin. The bumps, scabs, and bug bites all over my body, which I had scratched until I bled, began to sting. The sigh of relief I let out felt so good. I did not even realize how much pain my body had truly endured.
Sitting there in a daze, the bathroom door opened. My husband, Robert, stood there holding a towel in one hand and a bar of soap in the other.
"Clean yourself up," he said. "The sisters from the church will be here shortly."
He slammed the door behind him.
I wanted to stay in that bathtub all day, but I knew better. I needed to follow all directions given to stay on his good side. I did not want to anger him. I needed a plan, even though I had no idea what it was. I just knew I needed one.
I quickly washed up and got dressed. Robert came back in, looking me over from head to toe.
"Ew, you look hideous, and you still smell bad. Just do not forget our agreement. Now hurry and get to the guest room. That is where y'all will be for now."
Nervously, I nodded. I was scared to ask, but I needed to know.
"Um, Robert… are the children here? May I see them?" I asked.
"They are with my mother for the weekend," he replied.
My heart dropped, and my face fell with disappointment. I had hoped, even for a moment, that I could hug them.
"Oh," he added casually, "my stepfather will be stopping by later as well."
I nodded in silence.
Robert's stepfather was named Mr. Gregory. He was a short, pale, redheaded man obsessed with newspapers. He collected them from all over the world and could sit for hours reading them, no matter how old they were. I used to call him Mr. Nosy back when I was allowed to speak freely.
The doorbell rang.
"Get in the guest room and lie down," Robert whispered. "If you mess this up even once, you will never see our children again."
I started walking toward the guest room and felt a sharp pain. It was my feet. They were so swollen, especially my right foot. It was leaking white fluid and had a foul smell. The pain was worse than before. I was weaker in that foot, so I used my left foot to walk and dragged my right. It burned so badly I wanted to scream. I felt like I would be better off if I just chopped it off.
When I entered the room, I noticed medical equipment and breathing machines everywhere. I did not remember any of that being there before.
I laid down on the bed and let out a sigh of relief. I had not slept in a bed in over a month.
Then I heard voices getting closer. The sisters had arrived.
I could hear them thanking Robert for allowing them to come check on me.
"She is very sick, ladies," he said. "Let us try to keep this as brief as possible."
As each of the sisters entered the room with smiles, get well baskets, and gifts, they hugged me and showed me love. I thanked each of them.
Then I heard a familiar voice say, "Oh, so now you don't know me? Do not tell me you got Alzheimer's too."
I looked up to see Sister Gabby Honor with the biggest smile on her face.
My eyes lit up.
Seeing her brought a rare moment of happiness. Sister Gabby was tall with thick brown hair and a face full of freckles. She had full figured hips and lips and skin so bright people used to say she was a white woman in a Black woman's body. She was the head secretary of the church, and she was amazing with numbers. Not one penny could get past her. She hugged me tightly and told me how much she missed me.
"Is there anything I can do for you?" she asked.
I thanked her, noticing her eyes linger on my swollen jaw. She knew I was strong, but I could tell something did not feel right to her. I could see it.
She looked at all the other sisters and left the room troubled.
Robert walked back in. "Hello, sisters," he said. "Just checking to make sure everything is going well. Thank you again for coming to see my beautiful wife."
"No, thank you for allowing us to be here. We truly missed our first lady. Would it be alright if we say a prayer before we go, Pastor Robert?" asked one sister.
"Yes, sure, sister. I'll lead the prayer," Robert agreed.
As they bowed their heads and closed their eyes, Sister Gabby walked to stand next to me and discreetly slipped a note into my hand. It read:
If you are in danger, squeeze my hand.
She grabbed my hand during the prayer and waited for a signal.
I froze.
I heard Robert's voice in my head warning me. But honestly, I did not know when I would ever get a chance like this again. I took a deep breath and squeezed her hand.
Her eyes jumped open, filled with tears. She bent down, took the note back, and hugged me.
"I will make sure you are safe by the end of the day," she whispered, squeezing my hand back.
After the women left, another sister lingered. Her name was Lillie. She was short and heavyset and carried herself with arrogance. Her clothes were too tight and revealing, and everyone knew she had a thing for Robert.
"Pastor," she said sweetly, "may I speak with you in private?"
"Of course," he replied. "Follow me to my office."
They walked away.
I rolled over and closed my eyes, happy but also fearful that very soon Sister Gabby would have someone save me from this hellhole.
Then the bedroom door opened again.
"Karma, sit up," Robert said.
I jumped up. "Is everything okay?"
"Haven't I always kept my promises?" he asked.
I nodded.
"Then why do you not trust me?" he yelled.
He held up the note.
"Thanks to Sister Lillie, I got this just before Sister Gabby could get in her so called bucket of a car. Did you really think she was going to help you? I already warned her what would happen if anyone tried to help a whore like you."
My heart dropped. "Please," I whispered through tears.
"So if it is help you want," he said, "that is what you will get. Get up. You are going back to the garage."
He grabbed my arm.
I began to kick and scream, begging him to stop.
"Get up now and walk before I make you walk," he yelled.
I begged again. Please, I'll do anything.
He balled up his fist and punched me in my face.
I got out of the bed and tried to run.
He grabbed me and slammed my head against the dresser. Blood gushed down from my nose.
He pushed me down the stairs. I fell backward, tumbling down each step, crashing into the living room.
He yelled, "I will kill you before any help comes." He was foaming at the mouth with a wild look in his eyes.
He lifted his foot and stomped on my stomach repeatedly until he got tired.
He stood over me , saying, "Look what you made me do."
He then grabbed his car keys and ran outside. The engine started, and the sound of his tires screeched away. As I felt myself passing out, everything went black.