Her Dirty Secret [Down Draft]

Chapter IX

Chapter Nine

Years ago, I remember my mother singing to me. My father had just passed out drunk after he'd beaten my mother terribly. I sat with her in the bathroom while she was in the tub cleaning the blood off her. I remember, even bloody, beaten, and bruised, she was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen.

Because her eyes still held light in them, a distinct determination in the set of her shoulders.

But the tears still silently came. I knew not who or what she cried for. But my eight year old self quietly picked up a washcloth from the top of the granite sink, soaked in the the water from the sink, (the bath water was too dirty) and rubbed soap on it. I remember it smelled of fruit, a delicious smell, and had a hint of the smell of flowers.

I stood on my knees behind her and gently washed her bloody and bruised back. Cuts were everywhere, her whole back seeming to be a bruise itself.

Her body shook slightly, and at first I'd thought she was cold. But she wasn't. She was shaking, trembling, with sobs that threatened to choke her on the way out of her throat.

"My sweet angel," she'd manage between them. And I cried. "You take such good care of your mother." Her voice was a raspy whisper, and I barely heard it.

As my hand went over her shoulder to wash gently, her hand found mine and she placed it there, on top of my hand that rested on her shoulder, and she squeezed.

"Come here," she'd said after she had calmed her cries. "In front of me." I rinsed her back off and dropped the cloth in the water.

I still stood only on my knees and I was on the side of the claw-foot bathtub.

"You must promise me, my sweet angel, that you will do anything to protect yourself. You are my one and only treasure in this world, my sweet, kind daughter. Because you were the creation of love," she'd whispered softly at the end of her sentence.

And she sang softly to me as she held my hands in her's, a song I did not recognize; a song that was familiar, yet not familiar. The words were not familiar, either, because she sang in a different language. It had been the most peaceful we had ever been.

When I was brought back to reality by a knock on the door, I realized I had sang the song aloud as my mother had.

It was Levi at the door with food.

"I figured you might be hungry," he said, "and Iris, too." I nodded and he came into the room, shutting the door behind him. Iris stared at Levi's hands. I smiled and grabbed her right before she pounced on him.

"You'll ruin the food that way, Iris."

She barked, so I changed her back and she was an adorable little, black-haired baby the next second, and she couldn't attack the food carrier.

I reached for the baby food and took it from his hand.

"I'll feed her so you can eat," he said slowly. I looked at him for a moment before smiling.

"Alright," I said. "Thank you."

He sat on the bed with his legs crossed right in front of me facing me. I handed Iris to him once he was settled.

"She looks a lot like you," he said looking down at her.

"I look a lot like my mother," I said in return. As she ate in his arms, something--the something I felt twice earlier, actually--nagged at me again, but this time I could place the feeling.

Longing. I wish--longed--that the three of us could be a family. The feeling was so strong, if I'd been standing, it would have knocked me off my feet.