skin bruised deep plum 

far away 
from the life she’d imagined 

she studies the card in her hand 
Are you a victim of domestic violence? 
You are not alone!  

She’d never once wished to be a victim when she grew up. A firefighter. A professional chef. A flight attendant. Those had been some of her choices when her dreams were still fledgling fresh. People had written in her yearbook: stay smart / you’re the smartest person I know / you’ll go places / go slay the future, girl—and so on. But, for all the praise dedicated to her pre-frontal cortex, she’d made one wrong decision—she’d leapt before she looked.

He was charming at first—smiled, opened doors, caressed the small of her back. They wined and dined and wooed. He, the quintessential boyfriend. They became engaged three months later, married five months after that. Eight months. 243 days. She thought she knew him. And she did—until the first time he clenched his fists, sparks flaring in his gray-green eyes. It’s nothing, she tried to tell him. I ran into an old friend at the grocery store, not even someone I dated. We spoke, briefly, less than two minutes. His response had been catastrophic, a mountain made out of a mole hill, if you will.

The first slap stunned her, sent her reeling. The second slap sent her to the floor. She may have screamed. She definitely cried. He apologized later. Sent her a dozen red roses. They moved on. And on. The next time would be the last time. Or the next time after that.

She flips the card over, fingers tracing the 10 digits over and over as if they are stars full of wishes.

—Long-Listed Finalist in MacQ’s Cheribun Challenge #2

Arvilla Fee

lives in Dayton, Ohio where she teaches English and is the managing editor for the San Antonio Review. She has published poetry, photography, and short stories in numerous presses, including Calliope, Mudlark, North of Oxford, Rat’s Ass Review, and many others. Her poetry books, The Human Side and This is Life, are available on Amazon. Arvilla loves writing, photography, and traveling, and she never leaves home without a snack and water (just in case of an apocalypse). For Arvilla, writing produces the greatest joy when it connects us to each other.

To learn more about her work, please visit her website: https://soulpoetry7.com