Her fisted face flattened upon a bloody pillow, scream dreaming her childhood disgraced by another bigger related fellow. What willed her on were genes of endurance enhanced through thousand year wars more so than her desire to live or wit for survival. She lived too on denial. She had once loved, turned love- ache, now agony and ardor for the child within. He too in a excruciation chamber feeding on serum stained from chemical abuse. Not that she used. No, the incessant body bashing released loathsome toxins throughout her system with him boxed in, his innocent brain soaking the imprint of future nightmares and anxiety. Would she only flee as begged by friends–by family. Finally dragged to a shelter, still she wondered there, where the next blow would come from. Would she have the strength to run from. She had counted these ceiling tiles in this refuge before, as she spit the bile from the afterbirth of the baby she bore. Now she had much more–someone to run for–Buses, small town motels, back roads and disguise against an organized cartel with Fist paid spies. \"You bitch! You stole my son!\", his anger billowed, her fisted face flattened upon a bloody pillow, scream dreaming her childhood disgraced....
Augustus / Folsom, LA / March 2017