Shallow River

He’s barely spoken to me since I was discharged from the hospital, which was only yesterday. He hasn’t yelled at me or questioned me, either. He’s just… silent.

“Ryan!” I try again.

I’m stuck. Every muscle in my body is sore. My skin is mottled with bruises everywhere and I still can’t move easily. It feels like a plane crash-landed directly on my body. Billy beat my entire body senseless. It’s a wonder that I didn’t end up with more complications than a couple broken ribs and black and blue skin.

“RYAN!” I scream, despite my ribs screaming at me in return.

I have to pee. Like really bad.

I attempt to sit up, but the pain is blinding. The doc sent me home with pain killers, but they only take the edge off. Gritting my teeth, I manage to sit myself up. I blow out a harsh breath before I haul myself up. Dizziness immediately assaults me, and before I know it, I’m back on my ass again.

This reminds me of being small again, when I was helpless and had no one to help me when I need to pee or eat. Most days, I ended up peeing myself until I had the strength to get up. It was also a pretty good deterrent from men. Fucking a little girl isn’t wrong but when she reeks of piss? Oh no, that’s gross. I promised myself I’d never go back to those days, where spoiling myself and going days on end without food was my way of life. La de da, here I am once again.

“Ryan!” I try once more, frustrated tears pricking my eyes.

I hear him moving around upstairs, and I know the bastard can hear me. There’s a half-bath on the other side of the house, but with how slow I’d move, it’d take me forever to get there myself. He doesn’t even need to carry me there; I just need help getting up and walking there. Giving a little assistance never fucking killed anyone the last time I checked.

The pressure in my bladder builds to the point that I’m cramping. It’s painful, and when I realize that I’m not going to make it to the bathroom, the tears bloom and fall over the eyes in rivers.

At least the couch is leather.

“Ryan!” I scream once more. The effort causes my bladder to release. A sob releases from my throat as I completely lose all dignity and piss myself on the couch. And when he still doesn’t answer, I’m forced to lay in it. Just like when I was kid.

Promises, promises, River. Can’t even keep promises to your own damn self.

The warmth is sickening, and soon, my skin grows itchy. My ass will never forget the feeling of rashes on the most sensitive areas on my body. They were almost as horrid as the injuries themselves. Bad enough that I’d use my precious money for food on rash cream instead.

Snot soon joins the salty tears tracking down my face. Angrily, I wipe it away, but the tears and snot keep coming, which further frustrates me.

I’m fucking soaked enough, I don’t need this shit.

After another ten minutes, I hear Ryan’s footsteps. And I’m pissed. Fury boils in my veins. I’m trembling from the rage. How dare he leave me here by myself, completely incapacitated? It’s not like he left me for a minute, he’s been upstairs for over an hour.

He’s the one that brought me down here, claiming a change of scenery would help pep me up. He brings me down here, and then leaves me?

But no, I could’ve dealt with that. It’s the fact that I screamed for him several times, and he ignored me. He fucking ignored me.

He rounds the couch and then freezes when he sees my predicament. I’m nearly frothing at the mouth, but I keep my mouth shut. I want to see what he does first.

“You pissed all over my couch?”

I didn’t think it was possible to get angrier, but here we are.

“Are you serious right now?” I spit. I could literally kill him. “I yelled for you five fucking times!”

He looks down at the mess, anger flashing in his eyes. His jaw clenches and he turns his eyes up to glare at me. “I was busy,” he states.

“Doing what?!”

“None of your fucking business,” he snaps.

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“It’s not my business? Really? What could possibly be more important than coming downstairs when you’re injured girlfriend needs you?!”

He stalks towards me and leans down in my face.

“If you want to act like a bitch, then I’ll fucking leave you to stew in your piss,” he threatens. It takes everything in me to keep my mouth closed. Everything. “If anyone has the right to be mad, it’s me. You went to that fucking bitch’s house and got yourself jumped. It’s your own goddamn fault, and you lied to the police about who did it. You’re protecting the people who injured you, so you can suffer through it.”