He Beats Me

by Rod Cornelius

and tossed them onto the bed also. Dropping to the floor, she dragged out her only suitcase from underneath the bed and slapped it onto the mattress. She flung it open and threw everything she could into it as quickly as possible. As she filled the suitcase, reality swiftly struck, and it slowed her down. Was there any way to completely disappear from him? Where in the hell would I go? Who would help me? She managed to cut herself off from the rest of the world over the past few years, wagging around with this man that somehow found it so easy to put her through so much pain. She froze. The anger that spread throughout her body was nearly impossible for her to contain as she propelled her suitcase onto the floor. She dropped onto the bed and buried her face into her pillows. It was the pillows that muted the screams that bellowed from deep in her gut as she laid there punching into the mattress while crying to herself. She felt so helpless, so weak, and so alone. Her sadness and anger was quickly transformed into fear when she heard the door slam from the front of the apartment. She briskly hopped up from the bed, scurried into the bathroom and twisted the faucet off to stop the water she had left running. She then made her way to the bed in an attempt to clean up the mess she had made with her clothing, but the bedroom door sprang open. She halted as he eased into the room through the door carrying a single red rose. “Hey, Ma,” he greeted her. “Keon,”