Kite In The Snow by Karla Lopez

 

I stare at the empty backroads of our town as Travis drives us to his house. My whole body is on high alert, scared that we might get into an accident. Travis keeps swerving off the road because he’s drunk, but he refuses to let me drive.

“Ladies don’t drive.”

That’s what he loves telling me. More like men can’t handle not being in control because it bruises their egos.

I watch the road as yet again he drives into the dirt beside it, and I gasp. His deadly stare turns toward me. He’s angry that I’m scared.

I’m always scared.

I’m afraid of the consequences so I try a different approach with him. I move to the middle seat of his truck and link our arms. If he swerves again, I’ll be able to control the wheel.

I feel his eyes on me creating goosebumps in their wake. Not good ones, though. Not anymore. I used to be giddy and filled with butterflies whenever I was with the old Travis.

This beaten, broken man kills my soul a little more each time I’m near him.

I wish I could fix him.

I wish I could bring back the boy I fell in love with. That boy was good. He had a special heart.

The boy next to me is lost, angry, and broken.

I know it’s not an excuse for the way he hurts me, but deep down, I like to believe the good in him is in there somewhere. I hope I find it because I’d hate for this to be my life forever.

He swerves again, but this time we skid off the road and into the empty desert. I fly forward and hit my head on the windshield, a sharp pain striking my forehead.

I cry in pain and that only makes Travis angrier.

“Stop being so fucking dramatic.”

Anger runs through my veins, only intensifying the pain.

“Well, if you weren’t drunk and would be careful, I wouldn’t have gotten hurt.” The look in his eyes turns pure evil and I know I just made a big mistake.

A mistake that will hurt tomorrow morning. Before I can get another word out, everything goes cold, dark, and numb.

 

 

The pounding in my head and the sharp needles stabbing me on the side of my face are the indication of my punishment.

Never talk back to Travis.

I crack my eyes open, and I want to sob from the pain of letting the light from my window into my brain. I breathe in rapidly, hoping that will help with the pain, but it only gets worse.

I start hyperventilating, my muscles locking into place, the memories flashing through my mind like a movie. I’m so tired of the pain. This can’t be the life I live forever. He’s going to kill me before I have the strength to leave, but I have nowhere to go.

My eyes pour tears like the storm brewing within me. I sob into my pillow until I see my mom open my bedroom door. I watch her walk inside with a bowl of warm water and a rag.

I watch her sit next to me and wipe my tears, and care for my cuts and bruises. She doesn’t say anything—she never does. The worst part is that I can’t even run to my parents for help because they know about the abuse—the whole town does.

Travis has slapped me in front of people before and everyone turns a blind eye. His dad is the sheriff of the town, and they have money; no one will go against them, not even to save me.

Travis is loved by many, especially because of his money and statues.

The pain throbs through me while my mom continues to clean my wounds. I grab her hand to stop her. Her bleak eyes meet my sorrow ones.

“Mama, I need the pain to stop.”

I see it before it’s gone; the hurt and sympathy she feels. She masks her emotions well, though. She goes stiff and stern.

“Your job is to please your man. God made us to serve the men in our lives. You’re lucky enough to be with someone who holds money and status in this town. You’ll always be taken care of.”

“Who’s going to take care of me from him.” She sighs and walks out of my room without another word.

Again, who and where do I run to?

I sob into my pillow until the pain becomes too much and I fall into a dark abyss.

 

 

I walk aimlessly around the local Walmart here in a small town in Alaska. I found it on the map when I tried to look for a place far away I could hide in, that wasn’t a foreign country. I have nowhere to go, and I don’t know what I’m going to do. I’m running low on money, and my feet are killing me.

The motel I was staying at isn’t an option anymore because then I won’t have food to eat. And I need to eat, not for me, but for my baby.

The baby who’s kept me alive, who’s kept me fighting, when all I want to do is crawl into a hole and die a slow painful death. There was a point in my life where I thought death was the only way I would be free.

Until God gave me freedom and strength to keep going. He gave me a different path and I took it without turning to look back. I rub my five-month pregnant belly to comfort myself. I might not have a plan yet, but nothing is worse than the hell I was living before.

I make my way outside of the Walmart, and the bitter freezing wind hits me in the face, my muscles clenching in pain. The winter here is no joke, especially for a Texas girl, but other than that, I love it here. The people are kind, and it feels homier than my hometown ever did.

I walk down the town square, hoping to see a now hiring sign because the only one I’ve seen so far is the diner I eat at once a day—that’s all I have money for, but it’s enough for now.

The diner rejected me, though. They thought me being too far along would cause having to look for someone in four months again. The girl felt bad, but she said after the baby was born maybe they can offer me a job.

There aren’t many places that’ll hire me with a belly this size because most of the stores are warehouses for winter sports, shipment, and fishing.

There is a bookstore and a cute coffee shop on the corner, but neither have a help wanted sign. I sigh, feeling too tired to keep walking. My feet hurt the most, but I can’t stay in one spot for too long, scared I’ll get kicked out and won’t be allowed back in.

I have a routine after being here a week, Walmart, diner, and this bench outside the coffee shop. I wish I could get a doughnut or something, but I need to stick to my one meal a day to make it through with the little money I have left.

I feel so overwhelmed to the unknown, but my heart feels a little lighter knowing I’m far away from Travis and my parents.

I’m safe.

My baby is safe.

That’s all that matters.

I see movement through the window of the coffee shop, and when I look up, I see a tall, lean man with tattoos standing by the window. I soon realize he’s staring at me, and I cast my eyes down.

I must look weird sitting out here in the cold while the whole town is mostly inside unless their playing a sport, working, or fishing.

He keeps looking at me with an intense stare, and I wonder if he can tell I’m pregnant. The huge jacket I’m wearing covers my stomach, so I doubt it, but the way he’s staring at me makes me wonder what he’s staring at.

I usually feel uncomfortable around other men, especially being watched. I’m always scared they have bad intentions, but for some reason, his stare intrigues me.

His stare feels safe.

I shake my head at the feeling. You’re never safe around another man. I will never trust another man around me or my baby. It will be me and her or him—I don’t know the gender yet—forever. Just us two. That’s all I need.

While he continues to look at me with such a stare, the name of the cafe catches my attention. Poetry Cafe. I’m taken aback by the name because it seems so fitting for the man inside of it. He looks like poetry, soft and peaceful.

After a few minutes, his attention is taken away from me and a weird feeling blooms in my chest. Relief and longing. I want him to keep staring at me with his poetry eyes even though it hurts to be looked at.